Longing to Belong
by couchbarnacle
Summary: Sometimes finding your place in the world is a longer and rougher journey than you could ever imagine. Thankfully, you find the people to help you through it along the way. Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics.
1. Chapter 1

**This is an Alpha/Beta/Omega AU so I totally understand if you skip it if it isn't your thing! Thanks so much.**

John stood outside St. Bart's waiting for his mum to come pick him up. He shivered in his thin, borrowed jacket causing his stitches to pull making him gasp in pain. He flushed with embarrassment as people crossed the street to avoid walking near him. He knew what they were thinking. They could smell it on him.

He waited while his mother's old station wagon pulled up and parked so she could help him get into the car. She pulled him into a quick hug, loading his meager belongings in the back before easing him into the front seat. He leaned heavily against the window and closed his eyes resting his forehead on the cold window. His abdomen and hips ached and the pain meds they'd given him seemed about as useless as a placebo. He felt empty and alone and so very tired.

"Did you want to stop and get something to eat, darling?" His mother whispered at him.

"No thanks." John said blandly. "No real reason for it."

"Johnny…" She said sadly.

"I'm sorry." John answered. "I'm just not hungry."

"You'll be fine, honey." She said almost like she was praying for it. "You'll see."

"They took it out of me." John said, fighting back tears. "They took everything, but I can still feel it."

"It'll get better." She said; her voice cracking. "Your father's at home waiting for us. He set up a nice little nest for you to rest in my sewing room."

"Okay." John said. "Is Harry coming over too?"

"You know your sister." His mother answered, traces of exasperation coloring her tone. "She called to say that she was at an integral part of her writing process and had to focus on the manuscript for the next 56-84 hours."

"She's completely mental." John said thankful to finally feel something other than desolation. The irritation felt good. He seemed to grow lighter with the new emotion.

"She is at that." His mother answered wryly.

They pulled up to the worn out house and John's father bustled out to help John inside. He pressed a gruff kiss to his son's shaggy blond hair before going back for John's bags. John shifted to find a comfortable position on the couch as his parents returned to perch near him on the opposite loveseat.

"Did you maybe want something to eat?" His father asked. "I could whip up some pasta."

"He's not hungry, dear." His mother answered for him.

"Oh." His father said searching the living room for topics. "Did you want me to switch on the telly? Or maybe you're tired? Did you want to get some sleep? We set up the sewing room real nice for you."

"Sleep sounds better than anything." John said heavily. "Thanks for this. Both of you. I know you don't have a lot of space."

"Nonsense." His mother cut in. "We're more than happy to have you back. You had to leave when you were so young. It'll be nice to have you around."

"Yeah." John answered. "Umm, I'll need help with changing my dressing."

"Of course." His father answered. "We spoke with your doctors yesterday. They're sending a packet of information for us as well the name and number of an endocrinologist that you have an appointment with next week."

"Right." John said suddenly feeling so overwhelmed he was having trouble breathing.

"Don't worry." His mother cut in sensing his anxiety. "You have all the time in the world to get this straightened out. No rush."

"Yeah," John said. "My whole life."

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"God, look at you." Sam breathed as John exited the shower. "You look gorgeous."

"My ankles are swollen, I've got stretch marks, and these hormones have given me acne." John complained. "I would hardly call this gorgeous."

"You're so wrong." Sam said, prowling up to him and rubbing possessively on John's distended stomach. "You find out today, right?"

"Yep." John said leaning up to steal a kiss from his Beta. "They'll give me the due date at my appointment."

"This is everything." Sam whispered fervently still caressing his stomach. "Everything I've ever wanted."

"I'm glad." John said feeling happy and content and so full of warmth. "I'm so lucky to have been given this."

"You deserve it, John." Sam said. "You deserve every good thing for giving me a family."

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He stood naked in front of the full length mirror in the bathroom and felt bile rise up in his throat. He was hideous. The scar from the surgery cut right across his lower abdomen bisecting his stretch marks making him look like Frankenstein's monster. His stomach was flabby and lifeless and his chest was slowly deflating. His penis had shrunk with the influx of pregnancy hormones leaving him looking like a sexless freak.

Logically, he understood that he wouldn't look like this forever. His hormones would stabilize, his skin would firm up, and his scars would fade, but the physical evidence would still point to his overlying problem. He was a useless Omega, a brokenbonded nobody, an Omega who would never get pregnant again.

He jerked as someone knocked on the door lightly.

"Son, your appointment is in an hour." His father called. "We have to get going if we want to be on time."

"Okay." John called. He turned away from the mirror and began systematically covering up his failure.

The appointment was with a nice Beta named Dr. Sawyer. She had long, brown hair and kind smile. He went in alone and left his father in the waiting room.

"So, John." She said, gesturing for him to have a seat. "Dr. Rhame sent over your files just this morning. Seems like you've had an extremely rough couple of weeks. How are you holding up?"

"You don't have to…" John said awkwardly. "I've got a therapist."

"John." Dr. Sawyer said firmly. "I care about my patients. I want to know how you are so that I don't overwhelm you with the information that this conversation includes."

"I'm fine." John answered, flushing slightly.

"Alright." Dr. Sawyer said firmly. "Shall we get started?"

"Sure." John said wearily.

"You've recently experienced some trauma that resulted in a late second trimester miscarriage. Your reproductive wall took significant damage during the procedure that left you unable to ever bear children again. Only a few days later the Beta you were bonded with requested a blood scrubbing procedure to effectively sever your bond due to your inability to bear offspring. This procedure was completed ten days ago and since then you were discharged into the care of your parents. Did I leave anything out?" She finished.

"No." John said reeling from having his last month laid out in detail. "That covers it."

"So, John." Dr. Sawyer began again. "You're only nineteen. You have your entire life before you. Regarding your endocrine system, you will function normally. Experiencing several heats throughout the year like you have been. Will you be returning to the Institute?"

"No." John said firmly. "A representative visited while I was in hospital. They don't actually have any clients interested in a brokenbonded Omega who can't have children."

"Right." Dr. Sawyer said sadly. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." John said feeling something painful clog his throat. "I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do. I'm a bit worthless as is."

"Come now, Mr. Hannigan." Dr. Sawyer chided.

"It's Watson, now." John said firmly. "He took that too."

"Right." She said. "You're not the first patient I've had to experience something like this. There are options."

"Really?" John asked. "Like what?"

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"John Watson?" The man asked tentatively.

John glanced up from his book and coffee. He'd been sitting in the Institute's café waiting for his potential mate. He'd been told the day before that they found a potential match for him and he'd been restless for hours, hardly able to sleep the night before. He smiled and stood as the tall, blond man approached. He seemed a bit older. Probably closer to thirty than John was comfortable with considering he was only seventeen, but he looked friendly. He met dark brown eyes before his chaperone made her presence known.

"Mr. Hannigan?" She asked politely.

"Please, call me Sam." The man said barely able to glance away from John.

"Hi Sam." John said politely. "I'm John."

"It's so great to meet you, John." Sam said with a brilliant smile. He gestured to John's neck. "Can I?"

John glanced back to get the nod from his chaperone before turning back and nodding himself. Sam approached slowly wrapping an arm loosely around John's waist and leaning into to nuzzle into John's neck before taking in a deep breath. John felt the other man shiver in appreciation before Sam pulled back.

"You smell amazing." Sam said sounding strangely in awe of John.

"Thanks?" John said with a grin. "Did you want a coffee?"

"Sure." Sam answered.

They sat and chatted for most of the afternoon. It was a little awkward but they eventually found topics that they had in common. They chatted about football and the best place to get chips in London, where he lived, and slowly they got around to why Sam, a Beta, was at the Institute hoping to find a bondmate.

"I've always wanted to start a family." Sam said with a special light gleaming in his eye. "That's always been my goal and my dream. I want to have children and care for them and care for the person who gave me those children."

"But why an Omega?" John asked prudently. "You could easily start a family with a Beta without all of the hoops that you have to jump through with the Institute."

"Unfortunately for me," Sam answered, sounding sad. "I seem to have an incredibly low sperm count. The doctors say my best bet of having children and having several of them would be to bond with an Omega. That's why I'm here."

"Oh." John said. "I see."

"It's worth it." Sam said firmly. "More than anything I want a family. I don't care about the price or the effort. I'll do anything to start a family. And I hope I can start that family with you, John."

John felt his insides swell with hope.

_This could really work. _He thought. _This could be it. I could be bonded. _

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"A Beta?" Ella asked.

"Yeah." John said calmly. "It's just an idea. I could pretend to be a Beta. Hormone suppressants, body wash, things like that."

"How long have you been considering this?" Ella asked.

"A couple weeks." John said. "Dr. Sawyer told me about it."

"John." She said earnestly. "I've been seeing you since you first entered the Institute at 14. You've always wanted to get bonded and have a family. You love being an Omega."

"I did love being an Omega." John said firmly. "But I'm really not one anymore, am I?"

"John," Ella said. "Being able to be knotted and have children are not the defining characteristics of being an Omega."

"They're the only characteristics that matter." John said.

"You're upset and suffering from terrible loss." Ella said. "You have every right to be angry. What Sam did…"

"Made sense." John cut in. "Having children is always why a wealthy Beta comes to the Institute. It's different with Alphas. They have that urge to bond. When we first met and all through our courting and bonding, all he wanted was to be a father. I was what he wanted because I could give that to him. And I can't anymore. Of course he chose to break the bond."

"So you want to give up everything you've wanted for the past five years and just pretend to be something you're not." Ella said. "This isn't the dark ages. Omegas can get jobs. Look at me."

"Bonded Omegas can get jobs." John said. "They wouldn't even consider me."

"I could make a few phone calls, John." Ella said.

"Yeah." John said. "A pity job doing what? Answering phones? Making copies? No thanks. If I have to accept that everything I ever wanted and had is gone, I want to at least do something worthwhile."

"You really are considering this?" Ella asked.

"Yes." John answered.

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"Tell me what it's like." Sam breathed into his neck as they were curled up on their couch naked under a blanket.

"What?" John asked. "My heat?"

"Yes." Sam said running his hands over John's chest.

"I don't know." John said cuddling closer to his Beta. "It's like intense and primal and terrifying and wonderful. But I've obviously never been with someone else during one so it could be completely different."

"I can't wait." Sam said nipping at the mark on John's skin where he'd make his bondbite during the Heat. "I can't wait to smell you and fill you over and over again. How much longer?"

"Another week or so?" John said. "Did you want to try for children right away? I mean, we've only actually been bonded together for a few weeks."

"But we've known each for almost a year." Sam said sounding miffed. "Don't you want to get pregnant? Isn't that why you we went through the bonding ceremony?"

"Yes!" John reassured him. "Of course, yes. I just wasn't sure whether you wanted it to just be you and me for a bit first."

"We've got the rest of our lives for that." Sam said firmly. "I want us to start a family now."

"Alright." John answered, smiling as he shifted and felt his bondmate's interest in this conversation press firmly against his lower back.

"You know, John." Sam said running his fingers lightly over John's own cock. "I feel like we should practice, ya know, for the main event."

"Practice makes perfect." John breathed as arousal slid through his body. "Shall we retire to our bedroom, Mr. Hannigan?"

"I believe we should, Mr. Hannigan." Sam said dragging John to his feet and into the bedroom, John giggling the entire way.

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John lay curled up on the small mattress that his father had set up for him in the sewing room rubbing his hands over his childless stomach and struggling to keep the sobs quiet. One month. An entire month since he'd been tripped and fell down that flight of stairs. A month since he felt movement and kicks and he took folic acid and people would give him their seats on the Tube. A month since he'd curled up with his Beta and they'd whispered about their plans and their family and Sam would hold him close and promise to care for him forever. A month since he'd been in their nursery, since he'd curled up on the sofa and read the baby stories and researched his role as a mother. A month since he'd been able to tell their baby that he loved him. An entire month since everything had been ripped away from him and he was left empty and alone and useless.

He reached back and felt the bite mark Sam had given him during his first shared heat, his only heat with his bondmate. He was marked. Practically property of another human being and it was supposed to be forever. They were supposed to have kids together and raise them and send them off to school and then have the rest of their lives to grow old together and love each other. He wasn't supposed alone and empty and worthless. No one would ever want him again.

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"Yes, I get it." Sherlock practically shrieked. "Thanks."

"Sherlock," Mycroft chided softly. "It's nobody's fault. These things just happen on occasion."

"On occasion?" Sherlock shouted, pitching his phone violently at the nearest wall. "Six times! Six! That's not on occasion, you plumpy imbecile."

Mycroft ran a hand over his eyes trying to ease the tension building between his temples. This wasn't going as he'd hoped. This was the sixth Omega that his little brother had been paired with and the sixth time the Omega had politely but firmly told him to bugger off. He could practically hear Sherlock's synapses firing rapidly searching for solutions and reasons.

"Sherlock, we talked about this." Mycroft tried again. "You know that most Alphas don't attempt to find an Omega to bond with until their mid-twenties. We both know that you are incredibly gifted in many areas, but you're only sixteen. Maybe the Omegas are hoping for someone more stable to bond with at this time. Why don't you try again in a few more years?"

"I am stable!" Sherlock bit back. "I've got more plans and more brains then that entire population of that bloody Institute."

"Why do you want to bond so early anyway?" Mycroft asked curiously.

"Because I need someone." Sherlock said firmly. "Everything will be perfect, everything will work out if I have someone with me."

"Are you saying you want to start a family at sixteen?" Mycroft poked at him. "You might want to wait for that trust fund to mature first."

"Not that." Sherlock scoffed. "That doesn't occur for at least a decade in The Plan, but there has to be an Omega right now who isn't immediately interested in reproduction. I need that one."

"You do realize that life doesn't work like a chemistry equation." Mycroft scolded. "Just having all the correct parts does not a success make."

"What do you know?" Sherlock snapped. "You studied Maths. And what does that bloody representative know anyway? She probably studied drama. Bloody cow."

"Sherlock!" Mycroft said frustrated. "What did she say exactly?"

"Some complete rubbish about not being personable or easy to get along with or too stop being so weird…" Sherlock said deflating. "Complete rubbish…"

"Can we at least agree that you should make the attempt to wait a bit longer before you try again?" Mycroft said softly. "Maybe a few years will make you seem more…desirable…to potential bondmates."

"Alphas and Omegas are supposed to be together." Sherlock muttered. "That's how it works. I'm supposed to have someone…"

"You'll have your Omega eventually, Sherlock." Mycroft said, trying to comfort his desperately lonely younger sibling. "Give it time. You'll see. Someone will choose you when the time is right."


	2. Chapter 2

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"So?" John said with a giant grin. "How do I smell?"

John had been waiting in the house for hours giddy with excitement until Sam returned home from work. He'd felt the heavy weight in his abdomen and lower back shortly after finishing up breakfast this morning and felt his blood sing as the natural lubrication began to slowly slick his entrance until he was so wet he could barely stand it. He felt that deep itch start to tingle against his nerves and felt arousal pour through him. He'd barely been able to wait for Sam. He'd almost gotten out his old dildo that he used to use at the Institute to ease some of the tension, but his bondmate had asked him to wait for him and he would do anything for Sam.

He watched in heated anticipation as Sam's entire body froze as his nose was assaulted with the pheromones John was emitting. Sam dropped his briefcase before lunging at John and pinning him against the wall. John moaned loudly as Sam licked and sucked and bit at the skin on his neck. Sam's body was trembling and his rock-hard cock was being thrust almost viciously into his stomach.

"John…" Sam breathed out shakily. "I don't…this is…oh fuck…"

"I know." John soothed him. "I know."

"What do I do?" Sam said uncertainly.

"Take me to bed." John moaned as his body shuddered and released what felt like a pint of lubricant from his entrance. "Fuck me. Jesus fuck Sam. I need it. I need your cock in me so bad."

Something in his partner seemed to snap and Sam grabbed John and threw him over his shoulder before practically racing for the bedroom. He was thrown face down on the mattress and he quickly tossed the robe he'd been covering himself with onto the floor before presenting himself to Sam and whimpering loudly with need. He was just coherent enough to hear his bondmate ripping his clothes off as he writhed against the sheets his entire body sizzling with the need to be touched, sucked, fucked. Sam wasted no time. He climbed on behind and above John and slammed his dick into him with a shout of pleasure.

"Yes…yes…yes…" John moaned. He met Sam's thrusts into him with thrusts of his own. His body demanding harder, closer, faster. He felt Sam speed up and then the knot entered him, it expanded and John felt his body clamp around it hard. Sam yelped and came collapsing against his back sinking his teeth into John's neck as his body trembled and convulsed. John rolled them to the side and wanked himself off quickly feeling some tension ease out of his body as he squeezed and squeezed every drop out of his bondmate.

"John…" Sam gasped still lodged firmly in John as the Omega's body milked his erection. "That was…insane."

John giggled to himself and cuddled closer. "Well, buck up, soldier. We're doing this again in an hour or so."

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"So." John presented himself to his parents in the kitchen. "How do I smell?"

His mother took a deep breath and then frowned slightly.

"It'll take a while for the hormone suppressants to dull the Omega scent but Dr. Sawyer recommended I at least get used to the body wash." John said hurriedly. "Is it okay?"

"You smell…" His mother began. "Strange. Sorry, honey. You just smell odd now."

"Like I said," John rushed anxiously. "It'll take a couple months for the hormones to get figured out. Dr. Sawyer said I might even go into heat…but it'll work. It'll be fine, right?"

"I'm sure it'll be great." His father cut in. "Have you thought about what you'll do once everything gets worked out?"

"School maybe?" John said sitting down to breakfast. "I should probably try to find a job first. Help out with rent."

"Oh, son." His father said firmly. "You don't have to pay rent. We love having you here."

"I'm not a child." John answered. "And I don't need charity. I can at least do this."

"Alright." His dad said reluctantly. "But you take your time. You've been through something awful. We can take care of you until you can take care of yourself."

"Thanks." John said before picking up the paper and searching for the jobs section. "But I need this. I need something new, something exciting."

"Well, I do have something that I'd like you to consider then." His father said tentatively.

"What's that?" John asked.

"I want to get you trained up, just in case you have to defend yourself." His father said. "I'm not risking you out in the big city by yourself without being able to look after yourself."

"You want me to take self-defense classes?" John asked.

"That…and maybe a something a bit more protective as well." His father said, not glancing up from his paper.

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"Hello." John whispered awkwardly.

He glanced around him, making sure that no one else was around to hear him as he glanced down at the small gravestone. He read the inscription and felt his heart lurch: _To My Baby. You were so loved._

"This is the last place I thought I would be a year ago." John said painfully. "I know that Sam actually buried you somewhere else. But he never let me know where. So, I'm actually just talking to a piece of rock, but I don't think you'd mind. You listened to me drone on so much when you were…with…me that a few more words can't hurt. I realized the other day that I'd apologized to everyone else. But I never apologized to you, so I thought I should. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to catch myself when that person knocked into me. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to protect you. I'm sorry I ruined everything."

John caught the sob that was trying to claw its way out of his throat. He shoved it down roughly and wiped at his eyes viciously to get rid of the moisture there. He chuckled softly as he adjusted the bag on his back.

"I bet you never thought your mum would be attending university to study medicine, huh?" John breathed. "I have a hard time grasping the concept sometimes myself. I need you to know…need you to believe…that I'll never forget you, not ever. But if I let myself wallow, I'll never move on. I think of you every day and I always will. I love you. Goodbye."

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"Fuck. Off. Mycroft." Sherlock bit out as he threw himself down on his grimy sofa and curled into the cushions.

"You can either accept my help or I'm calling Mummy." Mycroft said firmly. "We both know what his solution will be."

"Still clinging to his coattails, I see." Sherlock scoffed. "Does he still tie up your laces for you in the morning? Make sure you don't have jam on your face? Or are you grooming your Omega for that role? So she can suckle you and your spawn at the same time."

Mycroft moved so quickly that Sherlock didn't notice until his brother had thrown him off the couch facedown on the floor with the tip of his umbrella digging into his spine.

"I will not hear an insult about my Omega pass through your lips, is that clear?" Mycroft growled. Sherlock tried to throw him off but failed, the lack of food and the remnants of cocaine making him weak and shivery. "We both know what this little spat is about and if you want to be jealous, then feel free, but don't for one second think I will ever be lenient enough to allow that."

"And what could I possibly be jealous of?" Sherlock sneered. "You're the one forced to play manservant to an Omega like a sex-crazed imbecile. I'll never be as idiotic as you. Imagine, setting up house for something like that. My brain is much too valuable for such mundane behaviors. Omegas are just a waste of genetic material."

"Sherlock." Mycroft sighed heavily, feeling his anger change to pity. "I am sorry."

"For breaking my ribs?" Sherlock crowed. "Yes, you should be."

"I'm sorry you never found someone." Mycroft said quietly.

Sherlock rolled away from his brother and scrambled to his feet before striding unsteadily to his room before slamming the door.

"FUCK. OFF." Sherlock shouted through the flimsy wood.

Mycroft sighed heavily before sending a text to alert the cleaners to search Sherlock's flat to find any leftover illegal substances. He exited the dilapidated building and slid into the comfortable leather seats of his town car. He relished the sense of calm that wrapped around him as his Omega slid over to curl into his side. It's true that he was incredibly lucky. He'd waited a bit longer than normal to attempt to court and bond with an Omega. At the advanced age of 29, he'd made an appointment with a prestigious Institute, took one look around, found his Omega, and bonded with her within three months. They'd been together almost four years now and had two beautiful girls. The only downside to his domestic bliss was the strained effect it had on his fraternal relationship.

He'll never forget the look on his brother's face when he'd announced his news at their family's biannual dinner. Sherlock had looked so fragile and lost. It was shortly after that Sherlock tried once more, at the age of 22, before slowly spiraling into a pit of drugs and darkness. His once brilliant Alpha brother had deteriorated into a junkie who could barely lift himself off the floor most mornings. Sherlock's former fascination and admiration for the bond between an Alpha and Omega had twisted into a scathing hatred of the entire domestic business.

"I ordered him a takeaway." Anthea said, barely glancing up from her phone. "He likes curry, right?"

"Yes, he does." He said, placing a kiss lightly on her auburn hair. "Has the au pair returned with the girls from the park?"

"ETA seventeen minutes." She said simply. "What did you have in mind?"

"I just wanted to make sure we could read them a story before naptime." He said offhand.

"I'll let her know." Anthea said kissing him chastely on the lips before turning back to her phone.

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"Lestrade!" Sherlock shouted as they raced down an alley. "She's getting away!"

Sherlock sprinted through the city streets after their smuggler. He felt his blood sing as he finally caught sight of that ghastly looking leopard print bandana. He put on a burst of speed as he noticed the closing gap between them. Thirty feet…twenty feet…ten…five…two…reach out and…

"BLOODY FUCKING HELL." He shrieked as the criminal smirked, pulling out the knife and racing quickly off into another alley way. He felt his entire body shudder in pain and shock as blood started seeping out of his abdomen. Everything started to get fuzzy and cold as the realization that not eating for 27 hours prior to the chase was going to make his recovery time about 3.4 times longer than considered medically normal. All his other senses seemed to click off and the only thing that registered in his brain was a sorted of garbled, muddled Lestrade shouting at him as if through water. His muscles seemed to abandon him as he collapsed to the ground saved only by the DI's grip on his coat. As a seeping bitter cold settled over his skin, he finally lost consciousness.

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"…Sorry, there's no way with his drug history that we can administer more pain medication…" The voiced called out to him, dragging him back into awareness.

"But just look at the stupid bugger." Lestrade cajoled. "He looks like death warmed over and he won't stop grimacing."

"I always thought that was just his regular expression." Mike Stamford, his doctor, responded lightly. "Seriously though, I wish we could do more but for right now, he's just going to have to fight through the pain. And considering how well his surgery went today, it won't be long before he's back at it with a vengeance."

"Based on my initial assessment," He growled. "It will take me approximately three weeks to regain my usual level of physical activity."

"Morning, sunshine." Lestrade drawled.

"What was so spectacular about my surgery if that's my recuperation time?" Sherlock continued. "It can't have been that amazing."

"Because if Dr. Watson hadn't been performing your operation," Mike cut in. "Your recovery time would have been twice as long."

"I highly doubt that." Sherlock scoffed.

"Well, you can take that up with him." Mike said, sounding tired. "He'll be making his rounds in a few hours. Get some rest."

At that, Dr. Stamford strolled out of his hospital room and Lestrade took up residence in the vacant chair next to his bed. Sherlock tried in vain to appear asleep so he wouldn't be subjected to Lestrade's banal commentary, but the DI did seem rather determined and Sherlock was in no state to offer any real level of protest.

"Did you know she had a knife?" Lestrade asked calmly pulling out his notebook to begin scratching almost incoherently at it with his pen.

"Obviously." Sherlock quipped. "That was my main objective. To get run through by a crazy designer puppy smuggler in Kensington."

Sherlock shifted in irritation and felt a sharp pain radiate out making him grit his teeth and growl menacingly. "Get me more meds, Lestrade."

"You heard the GP." Lestrade shrugged. "It's out of my hands. Of course, you could always call that brother of yours. See if he can do anything for you."

"Fuck off." Sherlock bit out. "Shouldn't you be getting back to your attempt at policing?"

"I seem to have been granted the afternoon off." Lestrade shrugged. "What a coincidence. Guess I'll just spend the rest of my workday here with you."

"Really, Lestrade" Sherlock answered. "The last thing I want to do is be subjected to your idiocy in my current state. Please feel free to bugger off and leave me alone."

"You really want to spend all of that time here by yourself with no one to talk to?" Lestrade asked.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked. "How long do I have to stay here?"

"Well," A strong voice interrupted from the doorway. "Your primary physician and I discussed it and we're recommending at least two days to help prevent infection."

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John smiled as he made his way into the room of his earlier patient as he took in the younger man and his visitor (he supposed his partner considering how familiar they seemed with each other). He was halted by the razor sharp gaze and felt his skin ripple uncomfortably.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Holmes." He said fighting off the feeling of exposure. "I'm Doctor Watson, your surgeon."

"Oh, that's just perfect." His patient sighed heavily. "Of all the bloody doctors in this entire bloody place, I get this one."

"Excuse me?" John asked confused.

"Ignore him." The other man said with a grin. "He's a right git most of the time and I fear the pain won't make it any better. I'm Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade."

"Nice to meet you, DI Lestrade." John said shaking his hand firmly. "How do you know my patient?"

"He consults for us on cases." He answered. "And please, call me Greg."

"Leave." Mr. Holmes said firmly.

"You're going to have to be more specific." Lestrade answered back.

"You, Lestrade, go." Sherlock bit out. "Call me when you catch her and you'll find the flashdrive sown into the lining of one of her dog's outfits."

"Right." Lestrade said making a note before turning to John. "Good luck, mate."

"Thanks." John said confused as he watched the older man hurry out of the room. He turned back to shoot a tense smile at his patient before beginning. "Down to business, then? Alright, the wound was fairly well placed, avoiding any major organs…"

"How long?" Sherlock asked him, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I'm guessing at least 10 years going by your trouser pockets and the extremely obvious scent of that shampoo drifting this way."

"Pardon?" John asked filling something akin to fear skittering over his skin.

"The hormone suppressants, do keep up." Sherlock drawled with a sharp glint to his eye. "It is truly astounding how dense everyone is. If they'd taken a second to actually observe their _colleague, _they'd have seen you for what you really are."

"I don't…I'm not…" John babble, flustered. This couldn't be happening. No, he'd worked too hard. There was no way this man could know. He'd been so careful. He felt his heart start pounding against his chest as his brain filled with loud, panicky noises that were making his eyes lose focus.

"Calm down." Sherlock said rolling his eyes. "I couldn't care less about the fact that you're one of those silly little Omegas who feel justified in pretending to be something they're not simply due to their biological desire to produce offspring. You are probably even functioning under the delusion that you deserve more from life than just being some sort of breeding machine. It's positively adorable that you think that."

John's fear quickly turned to anger as this stupid fucking Alpha made assumptions about his life. With barely another glance at the great arse, he bit out clearly. "No nicked organs, easily sewn up, minimal if any scarring, nurse will change your bandage at evening rounds."

John turned and stormed out of the room feeling his face twist into something harsh and terrible.

"I see you met him." Mike said with a light smile.

"Excuse me?" John seethed.

"Sherlock Holmes." Mike said with a forgiving smile. "Right awful git, but one of the most brilliant men I've ever met. He can deduce your entire life story from just looking at you. He's nearly always right and he tends to be a bit abrupt in his delivery. I see he put you through the ringer."

"How did you ever become that man's doctor?" John asked incredulously.

"Hired by his brother, if you believe it." Mike shrugged. "I'm practically on retainer. Pay's good and Sherlock's not so bad. Just bound and determined to 'deduce' himself into an early grave."

"Right." John said awkwardly.

"Just ignore the barbs." Mike said confidently. "He'll only delete his own deductions later and it only makes it worse if you rise to his taunts."

"Thanks, Mike." John said, trying to shake away the last bits of anger and focus once again on his job.

"No problem." Mike said, flipping through a chart and striding away, whistling under his breath.

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"He's a right terror, Dr. Watson." The nurse said leaning heavily against the floor station. "He won't shut it and he keeps throwing cups of water at anyone who enters. Can you please do something? Anything?"

"I'll go and have a look." John sighed heavily.

John took a deep breath before pushing open the door to Mr. Holmes's room and then immediately ducking the projectile that was flying towards his face.

"Oi!" John called out. "You great ponce, lay off."

"Oh, it's you."Sherlock drawled. "Shouldn't you be trying to lure some unsuspecting fool into your bed?"

"I see your attitude has only improved as the day as progressed." John said with a large eye roll before collapsing into the visitor's chair. "Is there any way I can convince you to give the nurses a reprieve. They're planning a mutiny out there."

"Why?" Sherlock said. "They're all idiots anyway and at least that might be minimally entertaining. As it is, I'm terribly bored."

"Is there anything I can get you to keep you occupied so you lay off the staff?" John asked hopelessly. "Crosswords? Novel? The bloody dictionary?"

"Boring." Sherlock said turning onto his side to face John and the doctor noticed a flash of pain cross his patient's face.

"The pain meds aren't doing much for you, huh?" John asked.

"Brilliant." Sherlock scoffed as he fought back the burning ache in his gut. "Please avoid stating the obvious, it puts me off."

"Because that's my main concern right now." John said bluntly.

They sat in silence for several minutes before John's curiosity got the better of him.

"How did you know?" He asked cautiously. "About me, being…well…"

"I didn't know." Sherlock said evenly. "I observed."

"How?" He asked again.

Sherlock attempted a put-upon sigh but John caught the gleam of interest in his eye. "It's like I said. If anyone actually paid attention, it's all there. The clinical and chemical smell of your shampoo and body wash. Medically prescribed for betas that have trouble _attracting_ a mate. Most betas with this problem have tell-tale signs of desperation. Plastic surgery, make-up, tanning beds, gym memberships. But you don't have any of those markers. You're just a bloke that happens to have the exact same scent? What could that possibly tell me? Obvious, you're not a Beta at all. You're just pretending. Now, what are you hiding? Let's take a look at your trouser pockets. Signs of a topical substance around the openings for your pockets. You're a doctor. Fastidious about cleanliness, so it's supposed to absorb into your skin over time. A lotion. What kind of lotion? Well, taking in your hideous body wash, it has to be a hormone suppressant prescribed by your doctor. Now, why would an alpha want to masquerade as a Beta in a powerful position as a doctor? Erectile dysfunction? Hardly. If that was the case, the side-effects of those medications would show in your physiology. Thinning hair, faint scent of rust on your breath. No, it has to be the other option. An Omega. You're obviously not bonded or you wouldn't have to pretend to be a Beta. An unbonded Omega trained as a doctor. Must have been in hiding for a very long time. Since puberty, I'd imagine. Scoffed at the idea of fulfilling your role as a broodmare and donned your little disguise. So, see? Perfectly simple."

"That was…" John began feeling his head reel and his cheeks flush. "…amazing."

"Was it?" Sherlock asked, wrongfooted for the first time in a long while.

"Yes," John said, honestly. "That was brilliant, you know it was."

"That's not what people usually say." Sherlock said blithely.

"What do people normally say?" John asked.

"Piss off." Sherlock said evenly and John couldn't help himself he broke out into giggles at the straight look on his patient's face. He watched Sherlock's features crack into an almost smile before it was smothered again under a stern mask.

"And you can do that with anybody?" John asked curiously.

"Yes, of course." Sherlock answered confidently.

"Right." John said standing up to prop the door open so they could see into the hallway before collapsing back into the chair. He waited until he saw someone stop at the vending machines down the hall and turned to his patient. "Can you do him?"

He watched with a sense of satisfaction as Sherlock's eyes grew sharp and engaged. He stared in rapt fascination as Sherlock deduced that man and the next seven that walked into their line of sight. They were giggling slightly over Sherlock's latest deduction when Dr. Thompson walked through the door.

"John?" Dr. Thompson asked, sounding a bit perturbed. "What are you still doing here?"

"Oh," John said, glancing at his watch. "Just spending time with Mr. Holmes."

"Your shift ended over an hour ago." The other doctor answered.

John ignored Sherlock's sharp gaze as it flitted over his features and addressed the other doctor, "Well, I thought I'd…"

"I don't appreciate other doctors on my floor when it's my shift." Dr. Thompson said snidely, cutting him off.

"Well, right now I'm not 'on shift' and it's still visiting hours." John answered firmly. "If Mr. Holmes asks me to leave then I will but until that time you can just deal with it."

"Mr. Holmes?" Dr. Thompson said, attempting to appeal to his patient. "Is this man bothering you?"

"Somebody in this room is," Sherlock said blandly. "But it isn't Dr. Watson."

"The Director will be hearing about this." The other man sneered before glancing at Sherlock's chart and then striding away.

"Git." John growled.

"He doesn't like you." Sherlock said simply.

"If you could please deduce something horrible about him," John sighed heavily. "That I could maybe hold over his head when he's a complete arse, I would greatly appreciate it."

"Besides the fact that he had a wank before he started his shift and he wants you fired, not much." Sherlock said before turning that knowing gaze on his visitor. "What was that?"

"What was what?" John asked curiously.

"You're an Omega." Sherlock said, sounding frazzled. "You're not supposed to stand up to Alphas. You're always supposed to defer to them."

"Oh, Mr. Holmes." John said, shaking his head from side to side. "You may be brilliant but never assume that an Omega is naturally deferential. Besides, they have to be strong. It's in their DNA to raise and protect children. They're fiercer than you'd believe given the right set of circumstances."

"Hmm." Sherlock said in reply.

"Well, I'd best be off." John said rising slowly. "Are you sure you don't want a Sudoku or anything?"

"No." Sherlock said, sounding preoccupied. "I think I'll be fine."

"Well," John said making his way to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow then. Have a good night, Mr. Holmes."

"Dr. Watson." Sherlock said suddenly. "What we talked about earlier. About you…I won't say anything…to anyone."

"Thank you." John said honestly. "Good night."

"Night." Sherlock answered.

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John rolled out of bed in his tiny bed-sit and began the long process of getting ready in the morning. He took his medications and applied the topical solutions and ate some toast with a cup of tea as he waited for it to absorb. He spent the usual 75 minutes in the shower repeatedly applying the body wash and shampoo before standing in front of the mirror applying the concealer to the very top of his bondbite that tended to show despite his collared work shirts.

He arrived at work and slipped into his scrubs in preparation for an early morning surgery when he was paged up to the Director's office ASAP. He sighed heavily as he tried to think up reasons to discredit Dr. Thompson ludicrous accusations. The man was a complete prat. He changed back into his collared shirt and made his way to the administrative part of the hospital. He waited outside the Director's office until the assistant buzzed him in and he began to smile until he got a good look at the people in the room.

"Dr. Sawyer?" John asked curiously. "What's this about?"

"John," She sighed heavily. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry about what?" He asked.

"No need to apologize to him, Dr. Sawyer." The man said evenly. "You're not the one who has been deceiving everyone in this facility for years."

"I don't know what you're talking about." John said, feeling something heavy lodge in his throat.

"Creative way of covering up your little ruse." The man continued. "Claiming childhood illness and being sent up to Scotland to stay with relatives."

"What's going on?" He asked. "Sarah?"

"I've looked into finding you other positions at Omega clinics." She said. "They always need part-time coverage for when the other practitioners go on maternity leave."

"You're firing me?" John asked incredulous. "I'm a damn good surgeon!"

"You should just be glad the hospital isn't pressing charges." The man cut in. "Honestly, an unbonded Omega, a _Brokenbonded_ Omega performing surgery. It's appalling."

"I'm so sorry." Sarah said resting her elbows on her desk and sighing heavily. "You're officially being let go. Security will escort you to clean out your locker and then off the premises."

"Excuse me," John tried again feeling his anger burn in his gut. "But my relationship and reproductive status have no sway over my abilities as a surgeon. I was top in my class in school and I have the highest success rate of anyone in this bloody hospital. I deserve this job and I'll be damned if I just give it up so easily because you've got a problem with my physiological status."

"It's the law." The man drawled. "You've broken it and now you must pay the price."

"It's a stupid law." John growled.

"Please don't make a scene. Your kind is so prone to emotional instability, but I assure you," The man said pointing to the door with a black umbrella. "It's unbecoming. Guards?"

John felt his entire heart stop in his chest. He stumbled out of the office and near fell as one of the security guards pulled him out by his shoulder. He felt humiliation tinge his entire face pink as he emptied his locker in front of what felt like the entire hospital staff. His hands were shaking as he tried to fold his extra shirts and pants and shove them into his work bag. He could practically feel the sneers vibrating off his skin. If they didn't already know, they'd know soon enough. He rushed out of the doors and away from his home for the past decade. He felt his future yawning out in front of him, uncertain and terrible. Now what?


	3. Chapter 3

"You look like shit." Lestrade said, sliding down the wall to sit across from the holding cell currently being occupied by a scrawny, slightly smelly, rather disheveled know-it-all.

"Police harassment." The bundle of dirty rags growled. "Don't think I won't go there. I've got the IQ of 17 nuclear physicists and a ridiculous amount of time on my hands."

"Not likely." Lestrade laughed. "Had the nicest little chat with your brother."

"That pompous, hormone-driven imbecile." Sherlock mumbled. "What was he doing here?"

"Not bailing your arse out, that's for sure." Lestrade answered.

"Thank you for contributing to the rather extensive list of things he was _not_ doing. We're all indebted to you." Sherlock drawled. "Now, would you maybe want to take a stab at my _actual_ question?"

"Nope." Lestrade answered. "He said that if you were too high to be unable to predict his behavior than I am under no compunction to inform you as to the particulars of our conversation."

"Is there something in particular you wanted then?" Sherlock snapped. "If not, feel free to bugger off at any time."

"It doesn't have to be like this, you know." Lestrade said.

"Trying your hand at therapy now, Sergeant?" Sherlock sighed. "I doubt it'll be a much more successful venture than your current occupation."

"Just because you don't have what you want," Lestrade continued. "Doesn't mean that you just check out and give up. So, you don't fit the 'normal Alpha' profile, who cares? Stop wallowing in self-pity and find something that you love and commit to it."

"Please don't transfer your own domestic problem onto me." Sherlock said darkly. "Just because your wife is currently shagging your brother because he's an Alpha and has a bigger cock, doesn't mean I'm the one with a problem."

"My marital problems aside." Lestrade continued on with a grim frown. "I'm not the one taking out my issues on the general public and tripping balls because nobody loves me. Grow the fuck up. Find something that makes you get out of bed in the morning and build your life around that. Don't fucking waste your life because you're pissed it isn't perfect. Nobody's is. We've all just come to terms with that while you're just too stubborn and high to see what's right in front of you."

"Where do I fill out the 'moving speech' evaluation card?" Sherlock snapped.

"I don't fucking need your approval." Lestrade answered. "But we both know that you're wasting your life away as is. What you do on a crime scene is completely bat shit crazy and you love it. But if you keep trying to break in to my crime scenes high as fucking kite then I will keep arresting you and soon your brother won't be able to make the paperwork disappear."

"You underestimate his ability to manipulate events." Sherlock drawled.

"Not if that's what our little chat was about." Lestrade quipped.

Lestrade watched as the bundle of rags curled tighter in on itself and for several minutes the silence was almost deafening. Sherlock finally seemed to come back to himself with a sigh.

"Sober then?" he asked quietly.

"Sober." Lestrade answered firmly.

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Sherlock waited most of the morning for Dr. Watson to return. He had spent most of the night in his mind palace but he'd shook himself out of his daze at around 5am and had been waiting ever since so he could share his newest observations with Dr. Watson. It was just coming up on 9am when his abysmal brother strode confidently through the door.

"Go away, Mycroft." He drawled.

"Forgive me for wanting to ensure your good health." Mycroft said wandering over to the window to stare out blandly.

"You've ensured it, now bugger off." Sherlock said fiddling with the scratchy sheets.

"You seem rather anxious." Mycroft said. "Nervous about anything in particular?"

"I'm not nervous." Sherlock huffed. "I'm just bored. And I'm waiting for my doctor to discharge me."

"Dr. Stamford isn't due to arrive until close to noon today." Mycroft answered.

"Not him." Sherlock drawled. "My surgeon. He's more than capable of discharging me."

Mycroft finally turned around to gaze curiously at his brother. _Seems I reacted just in time. Imagine, my brother attaching himself to a used Omega. How hateful. _Mycroft thought to himself. He smirked knowingly before answering.

"Yes, well." He shrugged. "I'm sure the doctors you see today will be more than capable of seeing to your care. Goodbye, dear brother."

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably and continued to wait and shred the sheets of his bed until he heard a set of male feet striding toward his room. He felt a strange desire to smooth his unwashed hair back from his face but shook himself from that ludicrous thought and decided on an exasperated smirk instead.

"It's about time…" He began smirking.

"I do believe I deserve a bit more respect than that, Mr. Holmes." That irritating Dr. Thompson said with a barely suppressed triumphant smirk on his face.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked letting his irate mood color his tone.

"I work here." The man said with a bland grin.

"Yes," Sherlock growled. "And so does Doctor Watson and I've been informed that he would be seeing to my care this morning."

"Oh, you haven't heard?" The man said with glee. "That imposter was fired this morning. Imagine, an unbonded freak like him, pretending to be a doctor. How utterly repulsive."

Sherlock felt something sharp claw at his chest and throat.

"What happened?" Sherlock heard himself ask in a quiet voice.

"Apparently some government official was reviewing records of all the physicians at this facility and was able to spot Watson's falsified files." Dr. Thompson answered. "Good on him, too. He put the entire hospital at risk. What would've happened if he went into heat during a procedure? If anybody asked me, I'd say that Omega needs a firm hand to keep him in line. The presumption…"

"Nobody asked you." Sherlock snapped before hurling his cup of his at the hateful man. Dr. Thompson wasn't quick enough to duck and strode out of the room in a huff dripping water from his appalling excuse for a face. He fumbled angrily for his phone before practically breaking the damn thing as he pressed roughly on the keys.

_You're a complete bastard. SH_

_I was simply doing my duty as a government official. Dr. Watson was putting himself and his patients in unnecessary danger with his little game. MH_

_I never imagined that you were one of the bigoted fools who believe that Omegas are simply possessions. SH_

_I'm not going to fight with you on this Sherlock. This was for his protection more than anything. He should just find a nice Beta to bond with and then he will be more than welcome back at St. Bart's. MH_

_He doesn't want that. SH_

_You're showing an unhealthy interest in Dr. Watson. I suggest you cease this nonsense. MH_

Sherlock tossed his phone at the end of the bed and sighed in disgust. He wasn't showing an "unhealthy interest" in the doctor. He was just feeling residual guilt which was completely normal. It was obviously his fault that Dr. Watson was found out. If he'd had any other surgeon, then the doctor's secret would still be safe.

"Damn, damn and double damn." Sherlock grumbled. "That's my day ruined."

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"Unfortunately, we can only promise you part-time work for the foreseeable future." Sarah sighed heavily. "But this is the best clinic in the city and at least no one will question your use of the hormone suppressants."

"Right." John said blandly, glancing over the pristine waiting room and state-of-the-art technology. "Most of my patients will be?"

"Mostly, it will be soon-to-be mothers and Omegas with mild illnesses like colds and the flu. They'll bring the young ones here as well up to puberty." Sarah answered. "Not your normal gig, I know, but this is the best I could do for you."

"Yeah, thanks." John sighed. "Can't imagine I'll be able to stay for long. London housing costing what it does."

"If it comes to that, we can talk about finding you placement in the country." Sarah said firmly. "You'll be fine, John. You always are."

"Right…of course…" John answered. "I'll be fine."

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John's entire body felt like it had been ripped to shreds as he tried to shove off the sedatives. His abdomen ached and his limbs felt like they'd been encased by cement as he slowly opened his eyes into the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital. He searched the room and felt his heart swell and his lungs squeeze when he laid eyes on his bondmate.

"Sam." He breathed weakly in relief. "What happened? Is the baby alright?"

"You lost it." Sam said in a strange monotone with a dark sneer. "It died."

John entire body tensed and shook with sorrow. He could barely register what was going on around him as he fought back the panic that was pulling at his mind. More than anything he focused in on Sam's face and the complete lack of emotion that he was exuding. John tried to reach out and take his hand but Sam just leaned back as if John disgusted him. His panic increased tenfold as he started to babble almost incoherently.

"We can try again." John said desperately. "We can. I'll be more careful next time, you'll see. My next heat should be within the next eight months. It'll be perfect, I promise. Please, Sam. Say something, anything."

John started to hyperventilate as Sam rose quickly from his chair and strode out of the room without another glance at his bondmate. John was experiencing a full-blown panic attack at this point and the nurses were rushing in as alerts were sounding out of the machines he was still hooked up to. He couldn't focus, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't seem to grasp what the doctor was saying to him. Everything went fuzzy and white around the edges and they finally pushed something into his IV that pulled him back into the cold darkness, leaving him alone once again.

When he woke next the doctor evenly and emotionlessly explained the damage done to his body. The fetus that had died due to the trauma of his fall, the scarred walls that would never be able to allow a fertilized egg to attach and grow, and he absorbed all of it with the weight of Sam's absence sitting heavily on his chest. He spent the rest of the day waiting for Sam to return to his room. For his bondmate to hold him and tell him it would be alright, to be kissed and comforted through the pain that was flaying him alive. But he never came. It wasn't until the next morning that the hospital's case manager brought him the paperwork already signed by Sam requesting a formal blood-scrubbing procedure for John that would essentially break their bond as well as the paperwork to sever all connection with each other including any rights John had to any of their shared property. He never saw Sam again after that first few minutes after waking up in the hospital. He was alone as the procedure left him even more weak and nauseous and dizzy. The representative from the Institute showed up in his room after he'd been brought back from the procedure and he ejected the contents of his stomach twice during that meeting: once, due to the fact that his body was protesting what had been done to him and twice, in realization that he'd never be worth anything again as an Omega. He wasn't wanted back considering his status and lack of reproductive capacities. They would provide him with a therapist but no more than that.

He spent the next two days in a dazed stupor until he was discharged into the care of his parents. He'd never be the same again. He'd always be broken.

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"Did you even read the entire report I sent you or did you just focus on a few keywords and then proceed to make an ass…butt out of yourself?" Anthea said angrily as she glared at her Alpha.

"I…" Mycroft said, pulling on the knot to his tie and clearing his throat awkwardly. "Well…I…"

"I love you Mycroft Holmes." She said, darkly. "But I can't say that I like you very much right now."

"Anthea, love…" He tried again.

"That poor man." She said firmly. "That poor, lonely, broken man and you toss him out of a job he worked so hard for because you have some extremely old-fashioned views of what the world should be."

"Dear, I…" He again attempted.

"No," She said firmly, cradling their son to her chest. "I trusted you with that information. I never once thought that you would belittle his hard work and his pain. I can't even look at you right now."

"He was breaking the law…" Mycroft began.

"I break the law every other day with some of the searches you ask me to do." She cut him off. "Do you want to have me thrown in prison for it?"

"Of course not." He answered firmly.

"You let that crazy brother of yours get high and get arrested for _years_ without having one bloody charge on his record." She said angrily. "Is that fair?"

"No, but…" He sighed.

"You will make this right." She told him. "You will do whatever you can to ease his transition into this terrible, fu…fricking mess you've made and you will do it with a godda…goshdarn smile on your face, do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." He said, blushing furiously.

"Now, Franklin needs to be put down for his nap." She said turning away before he could place a kiss on her cheek. "I don't need you this evening so feel free to spend the entire afternoon and late evening at work."

"Of course." He said humbly. "How much time do you need?"

"Honestly?" She asked angrily. "About a week. But you can come home tonight and sleep on the couch if you want."

"Of course." He answered, he made his way quietly out of the house before turning back. "I love you."

"I love you too," She bit out. "Now leave before I start shredding your favorite ties."

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"I really, really don't need your help." John said gravely as he strode down the street.

"Just hear me out." Mike said, stumbling and panting to keep up. "I've got this mate. She's a Beta and she's looking for a bondmate. I think you'd get on fabulously. I don't think she'd mind that you want a job outside the home. She's a real progressive person. Have a couple kids and then you can come back to the hospital."

John's heart lurched and he fought down the anger burning at his throat. Mike was one of his only friends now, almost everyone else at the hospital having forsaken him. He couldn't afford to anger the only ally he had at the moment.

"I don't need a bondmate." John bit out. "I need a flatmate, but honestly, who'd want me for a flatmate?"

"You're the second person that said that to me today." Mike said with a wry giggle.

"Who was the first?" John asked curiously.

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"Dr. Watson?" Sherlock asked as he took in the doctor standing almost meekly behind his primary physician.

"Hello, Mr. Holmes." John said nervously.

Sherlock took a few seconds to take in his surgeon's appearance before smirking lightly and asking, "How do you feel about the violin?"

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"What are you formally going to arrest me now?" John growled as he started at the umbrella-clad man in front of him.

"Not unless you want me to." Mycroft shrugged and gestured to the table with a full tea service. "Please, sit. Tea?"

"I don't want bloody tea." John answered darkly.

"It's your favorite kind." The man said. "I bought you flowers as well."

"Excuse me?" John asked flabbergasted. "Who the bloody hell are you? And why are you buying me flowers?"

"My Omega informed me in no uncertain terms that I had to make amends." The man answered.

"Amends?" John responded.

"Yes." Mycroft answered. "Of course. I also purchased a romantic comedy for you to enjoy with some popcorn."

"You want to make amends by following the recommendations of Seventeen magazine?" John asked warring between anger, amusement, and exasperation.

"The literature was quite adamant about the success rates of these items." Mycroft answered with a shrug.

"Well, then by all means." John said sarcastically. "Will you offer to braid my hair later as well? Who are you?"

"Mycroft Holmes." He answered. "I believe you know my brother."

"Sherlock is your brother?" John asked feeling his blood spike.

"Yes, but rest assured that he didn't tell me your secret." Mycroft answered. "I bugged his hospital room while he was sleeping."

"You bugged his hospital room?" John echoed. "You lot are bloody barmy."

"A sentiment many people share." Mycroft answered. "Now back to business. I need you to accept my gifts."

"Why?" John asked curiously.

"So that my Omega forgives me and allows me to sleep somewhere other than the sofa." Mycroft answered.

"And flowers are supposed to fix it?" John said. "You cost me my bloody livelihood!"

"I'm also offering a rather generous monthly stipend to make up for your drop in income." Mycroft replied.

"Keep it." John bit out. "I don't need your bloody charity."

"But…" Mycroft tried again.

"And leave me the hell alone." John said before turning and striding out of the empty restaurant.

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"There is no way in hell I'm agreeing to that." John said firmly.

"It's a completely logical solution." Sherlock said evenly. "It says so right here in this reference book."

"It would be a completely logical solution," John admitted. "If I were a mental patient. Sherlock, I won't now, nor will I ever, jump you, force you to impregnate me, and then tie you down to a family you don't want, you great prat."

"Omegas are known for…" Sherlock tried but John cut him off by grabbing at the book Sherlock was waving around.

"Where exactly did you get all this nonsense?" John asked incredulous flipping through the paperback. "This entire book is complete bullshit. No wonder you want to lock me in my room at night. This isn't a factual text, you great idiot, it's one of those awful smutty romance novels."

"Most of the readers noted in their reviews about the realism in this story." Sherlock defended himself. "No smoke without fire."

"Would you listen to yourself?" John argued. "Sherlock, that book is about an Omega's heat. And unlike the protagonist in the book, all Omegas can predict that a heat is coming weeks in advance. It's not just going to pop up suddenly. And, considering the fact that I'm currently taking suppressants, I don't even have heats."

"It says here that just one missed dose of the medication and the Omega's heat can be triggered within hours."

"Oh my god." John said. "I still can't believe I'm having this conversation. Sherlock, I need you to hear me right now, alright? I'm a doctor. I'm also an Omega who has been taking the same pill regimen for the past 15 years, okay? Can you at least trust my medical opinion?"

"Of course." Sherlock said without reservation. "You're a doctor."

"Okay then." John sighed. "The adherence rate for hormone suppressants is 60%, which means I could miss 12 doses a month, even 12 doses in a row, and not feel any residual side effects. Now ask yourself if I seem like the type of bloke to miss 12 consecutive days of the only medication that keeps me under the radar of every other person in this city?"

"No." Sherlock said begrudgingly.

"Right," John concurred. "So can we agree that locking me in my room each night and only allowing me to come out after you've given me my damn pill would be a bit insane?"

"I just want to be cautious." Sherlock huffed. "I have no desire to be a slave to an Omega's sex drive."

"Yes, well." John countered. "I have no desire to be kept like a fucking prisoner by a domineering Alpha."

"So we're in agreement?" Sherlock asked.

"We already were, you tit." John sighed.

**000000000000000**

******Just so everyone's aware: I'm an avid reader, writer, and lover of smutty romance novels. No offense meant! I just think that would be John's reaction to Sherlock's 'research'.  
**

******Thanks so much for reading! **


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock dragged himself up the stairs to the flat and practically stumbled into the sitting room. He'd just wrapped up a case that took him halfway to Nottingham and back in the course of eight hours and he could feel exhaustion tugging at his muscles. He rolled his eyes as he saw the doctor curled up awkwardly on the couch with his laptop almost falling off his lap. He stumbled over and rescued the laptop setting it lightly on the coffee table before feeling something clench in his chest. He shook off that feeling and pulled the afghan off the chair and wrapped it lightly around his flatmate.

The clenching returned as the doctor stirred and snuffled softly blinking into the dim light catching sight of Sherlock and smiling slightly.

"Back then?" John said. "How was your trip?"

"Eventful enough." Sherlock replied. "You should be in bed."

"So should you." John countered. "See you in the morning then?"

"Did you want a cup of tea?" Sherlock asked hurriedly before realizing that that question was abnormal.

"No." John said confused. "Why? Did you do something to the kettle? I thought I said that was off-limits?"

"Right." Sherlock shuffled awkwardly. "Night then."

"Night." John said rising with a groan and meandering slowly toward the stairs. If he would have looked back, he would have seen Sherlock watching his progress with a faint smile on his face, but he didn't.

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"Sherlock," John said rubbing his temples roughly. "There's a reason unbonded Alphas are not allowed in an Omega clinic."

"I don't see why that should include me." Sherlock huffed angrily. "I want nothing to do with that domestic twaddle."

"Yes, we're all very aware that you're above all that." John cajoled. "But that doesn't change the rules of the clinic. If you want to get a hold of me, you can text me."

"You don't always answer your texts." Sherlock accused.

"That means I'm with a patient." John snapped.

"How was I supposed to know that?" Sherlock growled. "You could have been kidnapped. I can't believe I got tossed out on my arse for being concerned about your safety."

"Alright." John said tiredly. "Let's just break that little diatribe down, shall we? One: You have the bloody GPS turned on in my phone. You can check to make sure that I'm still at the clinic. Two: That's what the Security Guards do. They toss out people who aren't authorized to be here. Three: When, in any other instance of our acquaintance, have you been concerned for my safety? I distinctly remember you using me as bait at least twice in the past six months. I'm hardly going to buy the whole 'concerned flatmate' routine. Now what is it you want?"

"We're going to dinner tonight." Sherlock said simply. "Surveillance work."

"You've got a new case then?" John asked.

"Angelo's 7pm." Sherlock replied with a quick upturn of his coat collar.

"Why couldn't this have been discussed when I got back to the flat?" John asked smirking at the Alpha's inherent attempts at intimidation.

"I had to make sure you didn't make plans to try and trap someone in your deceitful Omega web." Sherlock scoffed.

"Yes, well." John said, giving as good as he got. "As long as you can contain yourself from pissing on the corpse next time Anderson's around as a possessive marker, I think I can promise that."

Sherlock smirk was answer enough as he strode back down the sidewalk.

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"You complete and total idiot." John grumbled as he cleaned the wound on Sherlock's forehead.

"I had the situation well in hand." Sherlock grumbled and winced as John applied the rubbing alcohol.

"Obviously." John said sarcastically. He worked quickly and competently on Sherlock's cut. He hardly even realized that as he used one hand to carefully clean the area he was using his other hand to rub soothing circles over Sherlock's pulse point. He was unaware of it at least until Sherlock leaned away from the touch and sighed heavily.

"John…" Sherlock breathed, his voice dropping to a lower register. "You might want to stop that."

"Shit." John said quickly, dropping his hand quickly and blushing furiously. "Sorry, so sorry, didn't quite realize…"

"It's fine." Sherlock said clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably. "Just…ah…let's get this finished, alright?"

"Of course." John answered still unable to get rid of the faint pink on his cheeks.

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"For Christ's sake, Sherlock." John panted heavily. "Would you just get in bed already?"

"Are you propositioning me, John?" Sherlock said fervently, wrapping his arms around his waist and clutching tightly. "Because I thought I'd already informed you that I consider myself married to my work…"

"The fact that you don't know whether I'm propositioning you or not is evidence enough of why you shouldn't fucking take cocaine. Or whatever else you seem to have taken as well." John huffed. "Now would you please let go so I can drop you on the bed."

"The classic fireman's carry." Sherlock babbled. "Is there a fire, John? If so, this is not the time for sex! We must leave at once!"

"There's no fire, you hopped up idiot." John breathed. "Now let go so we can get you to bed. You're going to start coming down soon."

"I'm not going to go down on you, John!" Sherlock said aghast. "I'm the Alpha here! It should be the other way round."

"Bloody Christ…" John groaned before growling out, "You listen to me, Sherlock Holmes, you let go right now."

Sherlock seemed to go quiet for several seconds before slowly letting go of his waist and hanging there like dead weight.

"Thank you." John said gratefully. He quickly tossed him back over his shoulder onto the mattress. Sherlock's gaze seemed to follow his hands as he quickly took off his flatmate's shoes, socks, and trousers. John pulled the bedclothes up over his waist before unbuttoning the shirt quickly. Sherlock finally cooperated as John removed the restrictive button-down and maneuvered a soft t-shirt over his head. He eased the genius back down on the bed before moving the bedclothes the rest of the way up his body tucking them firmly under his chin.

"There." John said. "All sorted. I'm going to get some supplies. It's going to be a rough night. Stay here."

"Of course." Sherlock said absently as he started to rumple the sheets so he could run his fingers over the smooth fabric. John left him quickly to get his medical kit, some washcloths, a bucket and giant pitcher of water and a plastic cup. When he returned, Sherlock was curled up facing away from the door and shaking slightly. He jerked as John accidentally knocked into the doorjamb.

"John," He said, sounding tired. "There seems to be something in my hair."

"Yes, I'm not that keen on discovering what it is." John answered him, setting up shop on his dresser. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Please, John." Sherlock said, trying to claw through his hair. "It will stick and then I'll have to get a haircut. I look ghastly with a buzz cut."

"Vain, ponce." John sighed before going to the bathroom and grabbing a brush. He returned and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed as he began brushing through Sherlock's ratty, tangled curls. "It looks like puréed banana."

"I do recall stopping at the farmer's market." Sherlock answered leaning into the touch.

"You were gone for three days." John said heavily. "I was worried about you."

"There was no need to fret." Sherlock said, his voice getting softer as he drifted toward sleep. "I was always going to come home to you."

John felt something heavy pull on his heart as he watched his genius drop into unconsciousness.

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"Are we actually going to talk about what just happened?" John asked curiously. He watched Sherlock pace rapidly back and forth between the door to the flat and across to his music stand. The Alpha was frazzled and twitchy and couldn't keep still for more than a few seconds at a time. John rubbed his hands viciously over his face at the detective's responding growl.

"That's incredibly helpful." John quipped. "Do you maybe want to try again? With actual words this time?"

"I'm thinking, John!" Sherlock practically shouted.

"And I'm just trying to figure out what the hell just happened!" John yelled back.

"It doesn't…you don't…" Sherlock said ripping at his hair viciously. "Just bugger off! I'm trying to focus!"

"I don't care if you're trying to stop a runway train while wearing a poncho, you arrogant twit!" John bellowed. "You will tell me why the bloody hell you decided to have a fucking midnight rendezvous with a fucking crazy arse in a swimming pool without telling me!"

"You weren't supposed to be involved." Sherlock answered. "I didn't factor you into the equation."

"I realize that I'm not actually integral to your giant fucking mind palace thing." John growled, fighting off the lurch in his gut. "But it would be helpful to know when you're going to bugger off this mortal coil. I can go ahead and start looking for another flatmate ahead of time."

"Don't be an idiot, John." Sherlock sneered. "I couldn't very well allow you to come with me to face down a psychopath!"

"Allow me?" John yelped. "Allow me? Sherlock, I know it must be incredibly hard for your overbearing, egotistical Alpha brain to comprehend, but you don't actually have one fucking say in the choices I make. Also, considering the actual result of our fun little jaunt with Semtex and snipers, I think that I'll continue to trust my own judgment regarding crazy people."

"I was trying to keep you safe!" Sherlock growled.

John felt all of the fight go out of him. Jesus, this was exhausting.

"Sherlock, just because I'm an Omega…" John began at a much lower decibel.

"It's not about that." Sherlock answered.

"Then please." John said exhausted. "Just tell me what happened tonight."

"I miscalculated." Sherlock said quietly. "Won't happen again."

"You know, Sherlock." John said, tentatively. "I like working with you. I like going on cases with you, but if you don't…want me there…"

"I do." Sherlock said firmly.

"Alright. I'm off to bed. At least try to get some sleep." John sighed slightly before turning to the staircase and heading up to bed calling over his shoulder as he went, "Night, Sherlock."

John got little to no sleep that night himself. He spent his time shifting uncomfortably and displaying incredibly violent behavior towards his pillow. It seemed appropriate considering the mood of the previous evening. At a quarter to five he decided to give up the whole venture as a bad job and make himself some tea. He putzed around his room for a few seconds, grabbing his robe and putting on some lounge pants before opening the door and jumping in surprise. Sherlock was sitting against the opposite wall, legs splayed willnilly and his head drooping at an incredibly uncomfortable angle. He was snoring slightly and about three degrees from toppling over down the staircase.

"Sherlock," John whispered. "Come on, wake up."

Sherlock jerked suddenly and opened his eyes, suddenly fully alert and staring at John with bright gray-green eyes.

"Couldn't sleep?" John asked.

"Not with any long-term success, no." Sherlock grumbled stretching and groaning as his muscles and bones protested his position.

"Cup of tea?" John asked after helping to pull the gangly man to his feet.

"Lovely." Sherlock answered, turning to hobble down the stairs. "Much obliged."

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"You complete and total prat!" John shouted as he stomped from the kitchen and into the sitting room to glare at his flatmate.

Sherlock glanced up from his laptop confused before doing a quick analysis of his flatmate.

"Did the mother not realize that feeding her nauseous child purple kool-aid would result in a rather artistic display of sick?" Sherlock said with a grin.

"Where in the bloody hell are my shower supplies?" John bit out practically seething.

"Oh," Sherlock said blandly. "I needed them for an experiment."

"Sherlock, those were my beta body washes!" John shouted.

"Obviously, John." Sherlock continued. "I needed them. A person's alibi depended on it."

"Did you happen to go and get me more?" John said angrily.

"Why would _I_ purchase beta body wash?" Sherlock asked confused.

"Because you used up all of mine!" John answered.

"Buy your own body wash." Sherlock scoffed. "I'm not your servant."

"The pharmacy's closed!" John huffed. "And I desperately need a shower. Can I use some of yours?"

Sherlock's brain seemed to short circuit. Just the idea of John washing with his supplies, smelling like him, every inch of him marked with his own scent sent a pulse of arousal straight to his cock.

"NO!" Sherlock shouted.

John stood their flabbergasted for several minutes before sighing heavily and stomping up the stairs to his room. He returned minutes later changed into lounge clothes with a jacket and a bag over his shoulder before heading out of the flat without another word to his flatmate.

Sherlock quickly sprinted to the window and watched as John got a cab east, no doubt heading for his sister's flat. He shrugged in attempted apathy before picking up his violin and working furiously to rid his mind of some delicious mental images of a suds-covered doctor.

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"I can't thank you enough, Greg." John sighed heavily.

"It's no problem." Greg said with a commiserating grin. "The wife and the kids are away at her mother's this week. As long as you don't mind the sofa, you're more than welcome."

"Ta, mate." John said. "Do you mind if I have a quick shower?"

"Of course not." Lestrade answered pointing him in the direction of the master bathroom. "I'd have to you take one in the kids' bathroom but then you'd smell like bubblegum."

"Much appreciated." John said heavily, dropping his bag.

"I'll have a few beers for us when you get out." Lestrade said closing the door behind him.

"You're a right peach." John called through the door stripping out of his sweats and turning on the water. John showered quickly washing away the grime and sick from his day using Lestrade's soap. He'd have to go to the pharmacy tomorrow and pick up some new body wash, enough so that he could stash some away for emergencies. He'd been living with the crazy man for six months and he's still learning how to adjust his life to make allowances for that git's eccentricities. Not that he actually minded that much, to be honest. Sherlock was…well…he was captivating. Christ, he was hopeless. Every day he seemed to get a little more attached to the genius. Not that it mattered. Sherlock clearly wasn't interested and what did John honestly have to offer an Alpha? Not a damn thing. So, his little crush was harmless. Sherlock would never have to know and they could just carry-on as is. It was fine, all fine.

John finished up and donned a t-shirt and new pair of sweats before adding a high-necked pullover. It wouldn't do to have Lestrade see the bondbite. He'd grown so used to the layers throughout his life and he had to be especially careful with his flatmate, but it was becoming more and more obvious to John that Sherlock was selectively ignorant of some things which worked out just fine for John. He wandered out into the living area to find Lestrade with a couple of beers and the telly on some non-descript talk show. John settled next to him on the couch and they watched the show in companionable silence. Lestrade was wrapped up in a blanket and John soon found himself listing off toward the arm of the couch and a pillow. He barely remembered Lestrade maneuvering him around so that his legs were tucked up and the blanket that Lestrade had was curled around him.

The next thing he knew, Lestrade was nudging him slightly at some god-awful time in the early hours of the morning.

"John," Lestrade whispered. "I gotta head out, crime scene. Sleep as long as you like."

"Okay." John murmured. "Thanks, Greg."

"No problem." Lestrade said, before leaving quickly out the front door. John drifted back into a deep sleep.

He awoke several hours later feeling more refreshed than he had in ages. He quickly folded up the blanket and adjusted the couch cushions back to normal before grabbing his bag, making a quick stop in the loo to brush his teeth, and slipping out the front door, locking it behind him with the hide-a-key in the rock. He caught the tube back to Baker Street and walked up the stairs quietly, hoping that Sherlock was finally sleeping. The man was a bloody insomniac. John had even considered drugging his damn tea after almost four days of nothing but a few twenty minute cat naps under Sherlock's belt. He tip-toed into the flat determined to have a cup of tea and watch telly on the sofa all morning when he spotted Sherlock at his chemistry set in the kitchen. He slid his jacket off and deposited it and his overnight bag on his chair before making his way into the kitchen.

"Morning." John said amiably.

"Morn-" Sherlock started to say not even glancing away from the microscope, before John watched his nostrils flare and a slight growl escape from his lips.

Without any other warning, Sherlock had stood up so quickly, his stool had tipped over; crashing to the ground and the detective had started stalking John out into the living room as John began backing up quickly. He was pinned to the wall with Sherlock's hands on either side of his head and he felt his pulse jump as Sherlock leaned in to sniff his neck.

"Oi!" John said angrily. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!"

"You smell like him." Sherlock said darkly, leaning in further and resting his nose against John's throat. "Why the bloody hell do you smell like Lestrade?"

"I crashed on his couch, you git." John huffed, pushing at his crazy flatmate. "Would you please back off? Crazy Alpha hormones…"

Sherlock snarled fiercely before grabbing John's wrists and slamming them above his head. And, oh, didn't John just feel that all the way down to his cock. Shit. John struggled in vain trying to break Sherlock's grip but his thrashing was cut short when he felt Sherlock's tongue slide roughly, wetly against the skin of his neck. John let out a weak keening sound and prayed that Sherlock wouldn't feel his erection swelling in his pants. That would be completely embarrassing.

His thoughts were brought up short when Sherlock crowded that extra few inches closer so their bodies were pressed together from chest to knee and John felt the…rather impressive…outline of Sherlock's own cock against his stomach. Sherlock was attacking his throat with tongue and teeth and John was having a hard time doing anything but breathing heavily and moaning softly. Sherlock's hands had traveled south and were holding him close by his lower back allowing the taller man's hips to grind into him.

"You're mine…" Sherlock growled. "You can't smell like anyone else…just me…always me…mine…"

John knew what this was. He'd learned about it all those years ago at the Institute. This was an Alpha giving into their primal urge to own, to mark, to possess. He tried hard to pull his mind back from the brink of ecstasy as his flatmate's hands tugged at his clothing. There was a reason why this was a bad idea, he just knew it. But he couldn't think, couldn't focus. He could feel his body responding, lubricating, opening. Something he hadn't experienced in years. He couldn't think past the pleasure and the heat and the desire to do this. This one thing.

Sherlock bit down at his pulse point and John let out a rough moan as he bucked up against Sherlock's hips. Sherlock leaned in close sucking a bruise onto his skin and lifting his shirt up to run his long fingers of John's overheated skin. John leaned into the caress and was just about to start working on Sherlock's own clothing when the taller man froze like a statue before slowly tracing his fingers over John's lower abdomen.

And that's when John remembered, like a lightning bolt to his brain, why this was a terrible idea, why he couldn't allow this to happen, why Sherlock would never actually want him around, once he knew, once he understood.

Sherlock pulled back before tugging at John's clothing to see for himself, the awful truth.

"Sher—Sherlock…" John whispered plaintively, trying to tug his clothing over his scarred skin once more.

John got a good look at the feral rage forming on Sherlock's features before Sherlock turned him around to face the wall, with a hand on his lower back to hold him still before wrenching John's collar down spotting the faded bondbite at the very base of his neck. John's legs felt weak and he collapsed to the ground as Sherlock practically jumped away from him before grabbing his coat and almost running from the flat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Just for the record, I love Molly Hooper.  
**

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"I want his bloody file!" Sherlock shouted, pacing the floor in his brother's office.

"Why?" Mycroft said blandly.

"I need to know what happened." Sherlock said angrily.

"You could just ask him." Mycroft continued, not even glancing up from his paper.

"Just give me the damn file!" Sherlock yelled at the top of his lungs.

He watched his brother roll his eyes before gesturing to the rather thick file on the windowsill. "Don't do anything stupid, Sherlock Holmes. That man is everything you have ever needed."

"Like you're one for sentiment, Mycroft." He said, stalking over and grabbing the file, roughly shoving it in his coat.

"Those words aren't mine." Mycroft answered. "They're my Omega's."

Sherlock strode out of his brother's office and made his way quickly to the morgue at St. Bart's. He holed himself up at one of the clean autopsy tables and quickly dissected John Watson's life. Every part of it. Primary school reports, doctor's visits, records from the Institute, his bonding ceremony certificate, ultrasound photos, a police report, operating notes, the bondbreaking paperwork, his medical degree, his performance reviews, his termination paperwork. It was all there. He read over the file three times before dropping his face in his hands and sighing heavily.

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Sherlock was gone for two days. This time had given John the opportunity to really think about their situation. His immediate thought was to move out, quickly, and with only the things he could shove into a taxi. This decision had lasted all the way up to him zipping up his largest suitcase filled with his belongings and dialing the taxi company's phone number before he hesitated pressing that green button. He stood there, indecision warring in his mind, before he dropped the phone heavily on the bed.

He spent the rest of the day furiously cleaning the flat. He figured if he did decide to leave (have to leave because Sherlock told him to) then he would at least see the place cleaned first. Sherlock would be able to show off the place to prospective flatmates. Flatmates that weren't him. Flatmates that would get to spend time with Sherlock, laugh with him, fight with him, force him to eat, sleep. Christ. After this little revelation, he spent the evening getting spectacularly pissed with some cheap beer that he had around the flat and collapsing in his bed around 11p without even changing out of his clothes. The clothes that Sherlock had marked with his scent.

The next day, he worked a double shift at the clinic being distracted by the happy couples, the ultrasounds, the tears of joy, the kisses, caresses. Jesus Christ. He spent his lunch break holed up in his office with a poor excuse for a chicken salad sandwich and a bad attitude. The afternoon was thankfully less about loving families and more about the stomach virus that had been circulating in the local daycares. He stopped by the pharmacy on the way home and picked up more beta body wash, spent an hour in the shower scrubbing his skin raw with the chemical scent.

His next little mood swing involved intense anger. What the bloody fuck was Sherlock's problem? He thought he could just fucking assault John like a lunatic and then throw him away when John wasn't the blushing virgin that Sherlock wanted? Well, fuck him. Fuck him and his old-fashioned, sexist views and expectations. John wasn't a delicate flower. He was in his mid-thirties and had more than a few sexual encounters even after his event. He still had a cock and there were Beta females who found him attractive and having sex in the dark wasn't that hard to accomplish. If Sherlock was so determined to bond with an untarnished Omega, then he could fucking go for it. John would happily give him the directions to the fucking Institute himself. John wasn't ashamed of his life or his choices. He wasn't some child to be poked and prodded into domestic complacency for the whim of some overbearing dickbag. He'd played that role already. He'd used up all of the fucks that he could possibly give the moment Sam decided to abandon his childless self. If Sherlock wanted that, then he could have it. John would continue making his own choices, living a life that he was proud of, a life that he deserved. He stormed around the flat before wearing himself out and crawling into bed shortly after ten.

He tossed and turned for several hours before giving up and reaching into his side table and pulling out his dildo. He'd been so unbearably horny since Sherlock shoved him up against that wall, he could barely stand it. He grabbed his bottle of lube and slicked up the plastic before stripping off his pants and rolling onto his side. He touched himself for several minutes before realizing he barely needed the preparation. His entrance was practically begging for it. Jesus Fucking Christ. He slid the plastic in, jerking as the cold plastic slid against his silky walls, before beginning to pulse the artificial dick into him. He worked himself up to a furious pace writhing against the feel of having a cock inside him. He felt his skin began to tingle with impending orgasm. Grabbing at his erection and working them fiercely in rhythm, he jerked and shook as his release raced through him. He barely had a minute of blissful peace before his emotions went haywire and he felt a broken sob tear out of his throat. He threw the dildo across the room and curled up into a ball under his comforter fighting back his overwhelming grief and anger until exhaustion finally pulled him under.

He woke barely rested and pulled his clothing back on before stumbling down to the kitchen for a cup of tea. He watched the kettle boil with a morose sort of grimace before it clicked off allowing him to fix his cup solely on muscle memory. He was just walking into the sitting room when movement from the couch caused him to jump and almost drop his tea.

"Jesus Fucking Bloody Christ." John shrieked as a dressing-robe-clad Sherlock Holmes shifted to glance over his shoulder at his flatmate.

"Did you make me one?" Sherlock grumbled.

"Did I make you a cuppa?" John asked, feeling wrongfooted and incredibly exposed.

"You know how I hate repetition." Sherlock said yawning widely.

"Would you like one?" John ventured cautiously.

"Please." Sherlock snuffled before turning over to the face the room and burrowing into his pillow.

"Well, alright then." John said fuzzily. He walked back into the kitchen and made Sherlock the milky tea he always drank in the mornings. He placed it lightly on the coffee table and jumped again when Sherlock reached out to curl a hand around his calf before mumbling a thank you and letting go. John made his way over to his own chair and began flipping through the paper, barely able to absorb any of the actual information.

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"Sherlock?" John asked as he glanced towards his flatmate. "What's this?"

"Please be more specific." Sherlock said blandly. "I can't actually read minds."

"Be more specific?" John yelped. "There are over thirty different kinds of chips here."

"37 to be exact." Sherlock corrected. "Help yourself."

"Help myself to what?" John asked confused.

"To the chips." Sherlock said glancing up confused. "You like them, don't you?"

"Yeah, I like chips." John answered. "Why'd you buy so many? Experiment? They aren't laced with something, are they?"

"No." Sherlock frowned. "They're just…I just…eh…urm…oh, Lestrade!"

"Sherlock. John." Lestrade said striding into the room. "Double homicide. You coming?"

"Brilliant." Sherlock said jumping up and pushing past John to get dressed in something other than his pajamas. John picked up some chips and began snacking on them as they waited for the detective.

"Good day?" Lestrade asked.

"Eh. Not too bad." John answered. "Yours?"

"Completely mad." Lestrade sighed. "Haven't had a chance to eat all day. Do you mind?"

"Not really my call." John shrugged. "Sherlock bought them."

"Why?" Greg asked. Picking up a newspaper full of the fried potatoes, he started to bring them to his mouth when Sherlock stormed out of the room and slapped the chips out of his hand.

"No." Sherlock growled. "Not yours."

"Sorry." Greg and John said at the same time while John put his container back on the table.

"No." Sherlock growled again. "Just…urgh…nevermind. Let's go."

"Alright." John said awkwardly grabbing his jacket as Sherlock strode out of the room. Lestrade raised an eyebrow in John's direction but the doctor just shrugged in response.

"No idea what that was about then?" Lestrade asked.

"Not a clue." John said following his flatmate down the stairs.

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"Have you suddenly gone completely mental?" John asked curiously.

"I've no idea what you're talking about." Sherlock said without even glancing up from his microscope.

"This is the seventh cup of tea you've made for me this morning." John said. "Have you laced it with something?"

"A bit suspicious, don't you think? Why do you always assumed I've drugged our food?" Sherlock said blandly. "It's just tea."

"Yes, but it's _you_ making tea that's suspicious." John fired back. "Not just tea though. You put together trays of biscuits and sandwiches. Are you on something? Marinol, perhaps?"

"I haven't suddenly started taking an appetite stimulant." Sherlock answered. "You're starting to sound completely absurd."

"Then what the bloody hell is going on?" John asked.

"Oh, good." Sherlock said standing and grabbing his jacket. "I'm off to see Molly. We'll delay the tea a few hours, shall we? Have a good shift."

"He's completely lost it." John said baffled to an empty room.

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"I just don't see why we wouldn't work as a couple, you know?" Molly whispered to John as Sherlock analyzed the blood coagulation levels at different temperatures.

"Molly…" John said awkwardly.

"Just hear me out!" She squeaked. "He's an Alpha, I'm a Beta. He knows I would do anything for him. If he wanted to start a family or have it just be us. We'd be perfect together. We both work in the criminal field and I could totally help him with his experiments."

"I don't…" John tried again.

"Just promise me you'll think about it." She cajoled. "He listens to you. If you told him to give me a chance, I'm sure he'd at least agree to coffee and that's all I'd need. I could totally take over from there."

"John." Sherlock said firmly causing both of them to jump. "Coffee?"

"Sherlock." John sighed. "Get your own coffee. It's just down the hall."

"No, John." Sherlock said rolling his eyes. "You. Me. Coffee. Coming?"

John chanced a glance at Molly's blushing face and mortified expression before grimacing slightly and following after the detective.

"You could have been a bit nicer about that, Sherlock." John said quietly.

"About what?" Sherlock said, looking confused.

"Letting her down easy." John answered. "You didn't have to pretend that you're already taken. You could have just let her know you weren't interested."

Sherlock stopped and stared at him for several seconds with the strangest combination of exasperation, frustration, and confusion.

"What?" John asked.

"Nothing." Sherlock said heavily before striding out of the hospital.

They did end up getting coffee though. John had a really great time.

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"It's a…" John began. "This is a medical bag."

"Oh, yes." Sherlock answered. "Needed it for the case."

"The elm tree case?" John asked curiously. "I don't remember a doctor disguise."

"It was when you were at the clinic." Sherlock shrugged. "Last minute reconnaissance."

"Right." John said confused. "Why does it have my initials on it?"

"Well," Sherlock said simply. "I only needed it for the one case. I thought you could have it afterwards. I certainly don't anymore."

"Umm…okay." John sighed confused. "Thanks? I guess…"

"Tea?" Sherlock mumbled.

"Oh right. Yes." John answered reaching to flip on the kettle. He ran a hand lightly over the leather case and brass buckles. He flicked them open and felt his face burn slightly at the contents.

"I hope you don't mind." Sherlock said from the kitchen doorway. "I just didn't want a…repeat…of the other month."

John lifted out the four bottles of beta wash with an awkward cough, "Of course…yeah."

"Is the tea ready?" Sherlock asked.

"Not quite." John said. "Give me a few minutes. Do you want any biscuits?"

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"So how are things?" Lestrade asked. They were standing outside a crime scene as Sherlock went to work inside.

"Good. Fine." John answered.

"Yeah, I'd imagine." Lestrade smirked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked.

"Molly told me about your little coffee date." Lestrade answered.

"That was nothing." John replied. "That was just Sherlock trying to spare Molly's feelings."

"Yeah, because that definitely sounds like Sherlock." Lestrade said with a scoff. "He always attempts to be kind and considerate around other people."

"What exactly are you getting at?" John asked.

"You really don't see it, do you?" Lestrade asked flabbergasted. "Sherlock's courting you, you blind bastard."

"That's not…it isn't…" John said, blushing furiously.

"Oh please." Lestrade chuckled. "The chips, the coffee, you told me about the medical bag. I remember that case. Sherlock was never disguised as a doctor. He hovers over you when other potential partners are around. He gave you his scarf the other day. The git's trying to cozy up to you."

"I was cold." John tried. "He doesn't think about me like that. I'm not exactly his type."

"So, you're telling me that Sherlock's type isn't a Beta who follows him around, calls him amazing, and fixes him tea?" Lestrade asked. "And that you're not mad about him as well?"

"What I'm saying is that Sherlock doesn't have a type." John argued. "He told me. He doesn't want a family, doesn't want to be tied down like that. And he certainly doesn't want me."

"John…" Lestrade tried.

"Christ, I didn't even see it." John said feeling his pulse skyrocket and his heart drop. "I'm so pathetic and Sherlock's been feeling sorry for me this entire fucking time. Christ, I have to go."

"John!" Lestrade called after him as John practically fled. Greg Lestrade watched with a sense of dread as the doctor almost ran down the street and around the corner.

"John!" Sherlock called loudly from the house. "I want you to take a look at this! John! John?"

Lestrade sighed heavily as he heard the genius's footsteps moving quickly toward him. Oh, shit. He was going to get it now.

"Where's John?" Sherlock asked.

"Ah…he had to go." Lestrade bluffed. Badly apparently, going by the frown on Sherlock's face. He swallowed heavily as the Alpha stalked towards him and corralled him against the driver's side of his car.

"What happened?" Sherlock said menacingly. "You did something. What did you do?"

"We were just talking." Lestrade said earnestly.

"You listen to me, Lestrade." Sherlock said, a deep growl in his throat that was making the hair on Greg's neck stand on end. "I will air all that dirty laundry that you so desperately try to keep locked up in that dense little brain of yours if you don't tell me exactly what you said to John. Right. Now."

"I may have let slip the fact that you're trying to court him and he seemed a little less than enthused about the idea." Lestrade said. "He said something about you feeling sorry for him before buggering off."

The cascade of emotions on the taller man's face was making Greg's head spin. His features finally settled on an indignant rage that made Lestrade gulp and attempt to avoid eye contact.

"Pray that you haven't ruined everything, Lestrade." Sherlock breathed inches from his face. The genius turned quickly striding away after his doctor. He had to fix this.

0000000000000000

John paced the floor of the flat trying to sort out his fucked up life. Every bloody fucking time he thinks he's found something good. Something that he can keep, it gets stolen away from him. Just one good thing, one thing that he can live for each day. That he can wake up to each morning with joy. His entire fucking god damn life was like a study in tragedy. And he was pissed. John jerked in surprise when he heard the front door slam shut and heavy footsteps come charging up the stairs. He took a deep breath and turned to face the door.

"Oh, hey." He said with a pained smile. "Wrapped up the case already?"

He didn't get a chance for another comment as Sherlock marched toward him, bracketing his face with his large hands and slamming their mouths together. John felt his entire body thrum with the feeling that this was right, this was home. He clutched onto Sherlock's coat with white-knuckled need as the taller man slid his tongue against John's lips and sucked greedily. He moaned as Sherlock bit at his lips and tugged him impossibly closer. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's lower back aligning their hips and walking John backwards towards his bedroom. John was backed into the doorjamb and he whimpered loudly as Sherlock began nibbling at his neck. Sherlock traced his pulse point with abandon sucking a bruise all along the vein as John moaned loud enough to wake the neighbors.

"Bed." Sherlock growled against his skin. "Now."

John could do nothing but nod enthusiastically as Sherlock began to tear at his clothing. John helped as much as he could but was unable to do more than just cling to Sherlock and lick at his skin. The taller man dropped him lightly on the bed so that he could take off John's shoes and trousers. He was laid out stark naked on the bed and Sherlock was standing over him, still fully clothed and leering at him. John felt a wave of prickly anger nip at his skin and he rose onto his elbows and glared at the genius.

"I'm not going to apologize for my past." John said firmly.

"I don't want that." Sherlock breathed heavily. He quickly stripped out of his impeccable suit and crawled over his doctor. He rested his head on John's chest before kissing his scars reverently, lapping at them with his tongue causing John to squirm.

"You're perfect." Sherlock whispered against his skin. "Every inch of you."

John felt his body start to open and trickle with lubricant as Sherlock traced that gorgeous mouth and tongue over his chest, sucking gently on his nipples causing him to arch his back into his detective's touch. Sherlock slid up his body allowing his erection to rub against John's skin, leaving a trail of pre-come to mark his legs and hips. Sherlock sucked at his collarbone and ground his cock into John's hip, groaning loudly and breathing heavily.

"Mine." Sherlock rumbled. "You're mine…all mine…going to fill you…stretch you open…capture you and keep you…forever…"

"Sherlock…" John keened pulling him up to catch that sharp gaze. "You have to know…I have to tell you…I can't…I'm not…"

"I know." Sherlock said kissing him fiercely. "I know everything. All of it. But you have to know how desperately I want you, need you. John, you're everything."

"That night though…" John said running his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

"You didn't smell like me." Sherlock said fiercely. "You didn't belong to me. I was wrong and I hurt you. I need you John. I need you more than anything but I had to know. I had to know what you needed. I needed to learn everything about you so I could figure out how to make you mine."

"You are such an idiot." John grinned at Sherlock's face. "You are everything I've ever wanted. You could have asked me ages ago."

"I just wanted to treat you like you deserve." Sherlock whispered. "You deserve every good thing, John Watson."

"So do you, Sherlock Holmes." John replied unable to smother his giggle. "Kiss me."

"With pleasure." Sherlock answered.

John clutched at his Alpha's hips wrapping his legs around Sherlock's waist as they hummed and moaned at the taste of each other's skin. John bit down fiercely on Sherlock's collarbone as his Alpha wrapped his long fingers around his cock and began to pump him intensely. They were sweaty and gasping and, Christ, Sherlock smelt so bloody delicious. John's entire body was throbbing with need and arching up against Sherlock's skin demanding more contact.

"John, please." Sherlock begged. "I need…"

"Yes!" John pleaded. "Hurry. Now."

Sherlock stole another wet kiss before leaning back to part John's legs and run his fingers possessively over John's entrance. He slid two fingers in and let out a rough moan as his Omega's body clenched wantonly around his digits.

"You're so wet for me." Sherlock panted. "Just for me."

"Always for you." John reassured him clenching his fists in the soft sheets. "I need you. Please. Now."

Sherlock slid his fingers out before pulling John's legs over his shoulders and shoving in slowly causing John to whimper loudly. God, it was perfect. He was stretched and full and Sherlock felt so bloody wonderful tucked close inside him. He glanced up to take in the gorgeous image of Sherlock covered in sweat, hair sticking up and out at all angles, cheeks flushed a brilliant red, and his eyes drinking John's face like it was saving his life.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock breathed.

"I'm on cloud nine, love." John grinned. "Would you move please?"

"Yeah, I will." Sherlock panted. "Just give me a minute. This is…I've never…this is amazing."

"It's sex, Sherlock." John giggled.

"It's with you, John." Sherlock answered. "Ready?"

The Omega nodded happily and sighed in pleasure as Sherlock started to pump in and out in a steady rhythm that was making John's legs tremble. John licked his lips and hummed as heat pooled heavily in his groin meeting Sherlock thrust for thrust.

"John…" Sherlock gasped. "I'm going to…oh…god…"

"Come on." John answered, rubbing his thumb over the slit of his cock. "Fuck, Sherlock…come on."

Sherlock finally let loose all restraint and pounded roughly into John causing the Omega to brace himself against the headboard and cry out with pleasure. John began stroking his own erection in earnest as Sherlock slammed in once…twice…before practically howling as he filled John with his ejaculate. Sherlock's entire body shivered and bucked as he rode out his orgasm inside John as the doctor's body attempted to clamp down and keep them locked together. But he wasn't in heat, he didn't have the right hormones for it. Sherlock slapped John's hand from his own cock and quickly stroked the Omega to a toe-curling orgasm that left him panting and limp across the sheets.

He was feeling fuzzy and sated as Sherlock pulled out and wiped them each down with Sherlock's discarded pants. John sighed happily as Sherlock climbed back in bed and wrapped him tightly up in his arms pulling the bedclothes up around them.

"You can never leave." Sherlock whispered continuing to scent and mark his neck with an almost fervent impatience.

"Sherlock," John smiled. "I've stuck around this long without having that lovely cock up my arse, there's no way I'm leaving now."

The Omega could feel the smile lighting his partner's features. He melted into the feeling of his Alpha running his hands possessively over his skin as sleep tugged at his consciousness.

"John…" Sherlock breathed against his skin.

"Hmm?" John hummed.

"Bond with me?" Sherlock asked tentatively.

John turned in his partner's arms and kissed him fiercely wrapping his arms tightly around Sherlock's neck.

"Yes." He answered when they came up for air. "With every single bloody part of me, yes."

Sherlock's brilliant smile and sparkling eyes made John's heart swell so quickly in his chest it was almost physically painful. He didn't think he could get any happier.

0000000000000000

John felt his bad mood wafting off of him like a fucking cloud of ire. Stupid, bloody residents and their stupid bloody Alpha egos. He'd show those stupid children what it meant to be an actual doctor as opposed to just a gloried encyclopedia. Questioning his diagnosis just because he smelt like a Beta and worked in an Omega clinic. John was so focused on his inner rant and the notes he was making on his patient's chart that he almost missed the door opening a few feet in front of him and knocked right into the two people exiting.

"Sorry." John murmured as he sidestepped them deftly and continuing down the hall.

"John?" A vaguely familiar voice called out in confusion. "John Watson?"

"Yes?" John turned still making notes and not looking up from the pages.

"What are you doing here?" The man said sounding completely off-balance.

"Excuse me?" John said finally looking up and feeling his extremities tingle as he met the eyes of…bloody hell. "Sam."

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" The younger woman asked happily. Christ, was she ginger.

"Of course." Sam said, staring at John like he'd personally spit in his coffee. "John, this is my bondmate, Kate. Kate, this is a…friend…from years ago, John Watson."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Watson." Kate said, shaking his hand happily.

"Doctor?" Sam asked with a hint of sarcasm after taking in his coat and nametag. "You became a doctor?"

"Yes, I did." John said firmly, feeling his anger focus in a death ray in this dick's direction.

"They let you work in a hospital, do they?" Sam laughed condescendingly. "That's adorable."

John caught the confused and somewhat embarrassed look on Kate's face before smiling congenially and answering, "Funnily enough, they did. That's what happens when you pass all of your exams and graduate from university."

"Well, what else were they going to do with you, right?" Sam sneered.

"Sam…" Kate chided him lightly.

"Kate's just had her fourth child, you know." Sam continued smirking at John's flushing features. "The eldest is thirteen now. Kate's an incredibly wonderful mother. It's amazing how some people just seem more suited for the role than others."

Yeah, John was about 3 seconds from tackling the giant fucking dickbag and ripping his stupid moustache off his ugly fucking face when he heard his name called from behind him.

"There you are," Sherlock said striding toward the trio before freezing and doing a quick analysis of the situation before continuing toward them and stopping next to John with a warm hand on John's waist and contrived grin at the other man.

"Oh, hello there." Sherlock asked blandly.

Sam did a quick analysis of Sherlock's hand placement and John's lack of bonding ring and smirked before replying, "Listen, mate, I don't mean to step on any toes here, but you do know that he can't have any children, right? I wouldn't want you getting into anything without being fully informed of John's…defect."

And that's when the shit hit the fan.

0000000000000000

"You really shouldn't have done that. I had things well in hand."

"What? Were you going to polite him to death? The git had it coming."

"I was surprised at Kate's reaction. She needed almost no convincing in lying to the police."

"I'll have to thank Mycroft for making the video surveillance disappear."

"Yes, well, hold still while I finish cleaning up this cut. How you managed to slice open your eyebrow, I'll never know."

"Ouch." John squirmed. "Go easy. That stings."

"I must say," Sherlock said, dabbing at his cut with antiseptic before covering it with a large plaster, "That tackle was rather impressive. I was a bit overwhelmed. It took me a few minutes to recover enough to drag you off him."

"Admit it," John countered with a grin. "You just got sidetracked staring at my arse."

"That," Sherlock smiled. "And I thought I'd let you get a few more punches in before security showed up."

"I'm bloody insane." John giggled.

"You're bloody mine." Sherlock answered, kissing him firmly on the mouth several times before cleaning up the medical supplies. "As much as I love being your booty-call Alpha on the side, can you please stop taking the hormonal suppressants soon so I can bond with you properly?"

"It's only for another few weeks." John answered. "I want to make sure that the part-time A & E position pans out before giving up my job at the Omega clinic."

"I already told you that Mycroft has things well in hand." Sherlock grumbled.

"I don't want to jinx it." John answered.

"Bloody impossible man." Sherlock said under his breath.

"Take away?" John asked happily, sliding off the kitchen table and limping sorely to their sofa.

"Already called." Sherlock said, falling onto the sofa with his back to the arm and his legs splayed open so John could cuddle between them with his back pressed warmly to his Alpha's chest.

"God, I love you." John sighed happily as he turned on the telly.

"The sentiment is most enthusiastically returned, I assure you." Sherlock murmured in return.

**00000000000000000**

**Alright everyone! That's it for the main story. Epilogue with their first heat together to come. Thanks so much for reading! As always, you guys are the best!**

**~Couchbarnacle.**


	6. Epilogue

"You realize, of course, that this is a one-time occurrence." John mumbled as he carried the bags through the door and dropped them unceremoniously on the nearest piece of furniture.

"Nonsense." Sherlock answered, buzzing around the cottage like he'd consumed several dozen cups of coffee. "I'm confident that this cottage will be available whenever we require it."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." John answered, irritated. "In the future, we will do what everyone else does. There is no reason why we should abandon all of London for a week every couple of months. It isn't necessary."

"Of course it is." Sherlock said rifling through all of the cupboards. "Excellent. Mycroft had it stocked just as I requested."

"I can't believe that you are accepting anything from that git." John grumbled.

"Bonding present." Sherlock shrugged. "He insisted."

"Fine." John sighed. "But just so we're clear. Next time: In the flat, no fuss, just an adequate amount of acetaminophen and several changes of sheets."

"We'll see." Sherlock said noncommittally.

"I'm serious, Sherlock." John pressed. "I don't have a disease, I'm going into heat. I don't have to be quarantined from the entire population of London."

"John, don't be an idiot." Sherlock chided. "I'm not protecting London from you; I'm protecting you from London. Plus, I wanted our first bonding to be…memorable…"

"Trust me." John grinned. "A heat cycle is something that is almost impossible to forget. And thank you. I do appreciate the effort you're making."

"Anything for you, John." Sherlock said, slowing enough in his study of the place to drop a kiss on John's neck.

"Well," John began, glancing around the homey little place. "We've got several hours until I'm placing you on 'Get your gorgeous cock ready' alert. What would you like to do?"

"There are several beehives in the garden." Sherlock said glancing out the window. "Keep me posted, will you? I'm going to go take a look."

"Keep in mind that I'm using that gorgeous body of yours whether you're covered in beestings or not, so do be careful." John called as his Alpha bounded out to fiddle with the insects. He moved the bags to the bedroom and efficiently emptied the suitcases into the empty chest of drawers before completing his own exploration of the property.

He curled up on the daybed in the sunroom with one of the medical journals he'd brought on the trip. Sherlock was being completely insane. As much as he loved the sentiment of traveling out of London for their first bonding, Sherlock was actually considering renting the property and scheduling their lives around John's heats. John chuckled to himself at his Alpha's behavior as he worked through the adherence rate reports for antiretroviral medication. As the sun cut a lovely warm little path along the bed, he abandoned his reading and curled up with a happy sigh and let his mind drift. It had been four months since they'd started sleeping together and John had never been so excited for anything in his entire life. After these few days, they'd finally be able to complete the formal bonding ceremony. Mrs. Hudson was beside herself and had started making preparations within hours of John informing her of their trip. He was terrified to return to a flat of flowers and candles and bows.

He'd started to feel that heavy weight in his stomach a few hours into the drive and he shivered in anticipation. He was just as ready for this as his Alpha. It had been 16 years since his last heat and he missed that overwhelming, primal urge and desire coursing through his veins. To know with every cell in his body what he wanted and needed without his brain second-guessing his thoughts. He was also kind of relishing Sherlock experiencing his first heat as well. The poor man had no idea what he'd just gotten himself into. For Alphas, it tended to be an overwhelming loss of control that had them teetering on the brink of ecstasy and abject terror. Sherlock had given him some line about doing 'research' on the topic so that he would be prepared when John had tried to explain it to him. John smirked at the thought. He could just imagine Sherlock watching a few 'realistic' porn videos online and calling it a day with a firm idea of how the bonding hormones would affect him. But those videos were barely even able to scratch the surface of a real heat encounter. John had only ever been with a Beta and it was so intense, he could barely think straight. An Alpha under the influence of Omega hormones would never allow something like that to be taped. Poor Sherlock.

He must've dozed off because the next thing he knew his skin was itching and sensitive, his cock was throbbing, and he was leaking lubricant liberally on the sheets through his trousers.

He lurched off the bed, made his way to the back door, barely able to do much more than throw it open and moan, before quickly stripping off his clothes as he made his way to the bedroom. He spread himself out face down on the duvet and began rutting against the sheets while reaching back and fingering himself roughly shivering at the sensitivity of his entrance. He'd been there for at most 45 seconds before he heard the back door slam closed and Sherlock rushed into the room pupils blown so wide John could see nothing but black and his erection prominent in his lounge pants.

"Naked." John breathed wantonly. "Now. Right now."

Sherlock's hands shook badly as he tried to divest himself of his clothing as quickly as possible. He finally let out a deep growl that sent heat zinging through John's body as he tore out of his garments and climbed onto the bed behind John. He covered his Omega's gorgeously aroused form with his whole body rutting his painfully hard erection against John's slick thighs. Sherlock dug his fingers hard into the skin covering John's ribs peppering wet, sucking kisses along his Omega's shoulder blades.

John gasped and moaned as his lover's cock ground against him but was nowhere near where he wanted it, where he needed.

"Fuck me." John mewled. "Please. Fuck. Me."

"Patience." Sherlock purred darkly before leaning back and jerking John roughly onto his back. Sherlock latched on to his neck and sucked so viciously that John shouted in pain. Sherlock silenced him with a brutal, fierce kiss forcing his way into his Omega's mouth with tongue and teeth. John scratched long lines down his Alpha's back in retaliation for making him wait; writhing against him, bending and twisting until he had Sherlock's cock right up against his entrance.

"Not yet." Sherlock huffed angrily, shifting his hips away.

"I will murder you." John said angrily.

"I have a plan." Sherlock said trying to kiss John into submission.

"Bugger your plan." John snapped. "I think you're forgetting who's in charge here."

"Am I?" Sherlock said with a smirk, before pumping John's erection playfully. "I'm pretty sure I have a firm grasp of the situation."

"Sod this." John huffed, so tightly wound and fucking begging for it that he delivered a few well placed jabs, knocking Sherlock off him and onto his back before Sherlock could even draw breath. John straddled his Alpha quickly, facing toward his legs before practically skewering himself on Sherlock cock with a contented sigh, which was an interesting countermeasure to Sherlock's yelp of surprise and pleasure at the warm, wet heat of his Omega's entrance. John gasped as Sherlock's libido finally won over that massive brain of his and his Alpha grasped his hips firmly and forced his way as far into John as was physically possible. The doctor shifted his hips, rotating them and grinding down as Sherlock began shoving roughly into him, moaning and growling.

"Christ," John groaned. "Yes…yes…oh god…yes."

John could smell his Alpha's sweat and pheromones filling the air, filling his lungs, driving him faster and faster toward that orgasmic peak. His lover's hard cock, taking him roughly, possessively. He rode his Alpha demanding what he needed, using every gasp, grip, bruise, push, moan to drive him closer and closer to that ultimate goal. His body was poised, aching with want, ready to steal every ounce of cum his lover could produce. Make it his, have it mark him, fill him. He could feel everything, smell everything, he glanced back over his shoulder to smirk at Sherlock's crazed, dazed look of passion and lust and instinct and love. That final look, that final knowledge of home and John was there.

He moved quickly to the center of the bed on all fours and whispered seductively. "On your knees, back in me now."

Sherlock could barely do more except obey and slam back into John over and over again leaning over him to nibble and bite at his skin. And right there, that lovely swelling, that knot sliding into him before expanding steadily. John moaned as he was filled to the brim and just when everything seemed to border on pain, teetered with discomfort, his body jerked in orgasm, clamping down hard onto Sherlock's cock and knot causing the Alpha to shout in ecstacy and dig his teeth into John's neck so deep the Omega experienced another blissful wave of orgasm.

Sherlock shook and moaned as his erection was milked by John's demanding body. John, fully sated for at least a few minutes, maneuvered them slowly into a spooning position giving Sherlock the opportunity to rest his taxed body and lick John's new bondbite clean.

They lay together in a peaceful, contented silence as the last few micro-orgasms were forced out of Sherlock and his knot finally deflated. They breathed together as exhaustion made their bodies weak and their minds fuzzy.

"You're mine now." Sherlock whispered in awe against their bondbite.

"That I am." John sighed happily. "You're stuck with me now."

"I've made a terrible mistake." Sherlock joked.

John elbowed him in the ribs playfully before turning in his arms to kiss him gently on the mouth.

"I love you." John said lovingly.

"I love you." Sherlock answered.

"Good." John said firmly. "Now that's settled I think it's only fair to say that if you ever try to tease me again while I'm in heat, I will proceed to knock you out and take you while your unconscious.

"Duly noted." Sherlock answered. "I always assumed Omegas were much more submissive during heats."

"That's completely barmy." John said amused.

"I don't see how it's a strange assumption." Sherlock defended himself.

"It's just amusing to think that being so desperately aroused would transform someone into a state of meek acceptance." John answered. "I take what I want, Sherlock Holmes."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Sherlock answered.

"Are you saying you wouldn't want me to be more complacent?" John asked with a grin. "That does seem to be your general hypothesis regarding Omegas; docile creatures of the submissive variety."

"Of course not, John." Sherlock answered kissing him firmly on the lips. "I always want you to take what you want. After all, you did take me."

0000000000000000

"How are you feeling?" John asked compassionately as he looked at the sad, bedraggled form of his bondmate.

"How in the bloody hell are you so chipper?" Sherlock asked, placing an icepack on his lower back. "I'm completely knackered."

"I don't know." John shrugged. "Heats always seem to leave me feeling rejuvenated. Not the same for you, I take it?"

"I might just go die." Sherlock mumbled. "Christ, I'm sore. Twelve times! Twelve times in three bloody days!"

"Sorry." John said, feeling anything but. "Goes with the territory. Are you sure you don't want to stay a few more days? We do have the place until Friday."

"No." Sherlock groaned attempting to stretch his shoulders and failing. "Let's go home. I want to get that paper signed before you change your mind and try to find someone who can keep up with that ludicrous endurance of yours."

"Three squares meals a day and a run every morning." John shrugged. "But don't worry. I think I can be convinced to keep you. I've already got you partially trained and everything."

"You're bloody hilarious." Sherlock whimpered, attempting to lift the bags into the car and failing miserably.

"Here," John said, kissing him lightly on his recently-chapsticked, kiss-bruised lips. "I'll get these in the car. You climb in and rest your eyes, love. I'll drive us back into the city."

His Alpha gripped the side of the vehicle so that he could limp to the passenger side and crawl in slowly. He dozed quietly feeling slightly guilty but mostly appreciative to his new bondmate for offering to drive. Sherlock couldn't get them back into London if his life depended on it. He jerked in shock as his phone buzzed loudly.

_Might I recommend an ice pack for that Alpha limp. MH_

_Sod off. SH_

_Merely trying to be helpful. Helping an Omega through their heats can be…taxing. MH_

_No wonder you lost weight. Is there some sort of athletic training for these that I wasn't aware of? SH_

_As I was informed, it tends to serve as a rite of passage for an Alpha's first heat. MH_

_I'll be awaiting the fruit basket. Now leave me alone. SH_

_Get some rest. You'll need to be conscious enough to sign the bonding paperwork when you get back. MH_

_Bloody hell. SH_

_Congratulations, little brother. MH_

Sherlock coughed away the heavy lump that was attempting to form in his throat and tossed his phone on the dashboard.

"How's Mycroft?" John asked with a grin climbing into the driver's seat.

"Bloody impossible." Sherlock answered, resting his hand on John's bondbite and rubbing softly as they drove toward home. Sherlock nodded off within minutes of getting on the road and jerked awake only a few blocks from Baker Street.

"Mrs. Hudson just left the most terrifying voicemail for me." John said with a smile as Sherlock snuffled into consciousness.

"Has she been meddling again?" Sherlock yawned and stretched out his abused muscles.

"Apparently there's a surprise waiting for us at the flat." John answered.

"You're right, that is ominous." Sherlock grinned.

John let Sherlock lean against him as they fumbled up the stairs.

"Yoo hoo." Mrs. Hudson said opening the door to their flat and smiling happily. "Glad you boys got back safe and sound. Oh, Sherlock, you look…well, my husband looked just the same. Come on up, I can't wait for you to see what I've done."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." John said sweetly.

They entered the flat and Sherlock stopped to stare at the sight before him with a fascinated grin that made John's heart squeeze. Mrs. Hudson had dozens and dozens of test tubes, beakers, and Erlenmeyer flasks filled with flowers and fairy light. He shifted in embarrassment and sniffled loudly before announcing his displeasure.

"My chemistry equipment will require a thorough scrubbing now." He said grumpily.

"Shove off, you great git." John said elbowing him in the side. "It's lovely Mrs. Hudson. Thank you."

"You're very welcome." She said, beaming with happiness.

"Let's get these forms signed then." Mycroft said from the kitchen. "I've got to pick up Lana and Lois from school this afternoon."

"You're going to officiate the ceremony?" John said flummoxed.

"Of course." Mycroft said. "I'm more than qualified to handle both the ceremony and the purchasing agreement."

"Purchasing agreement?" John asked not feeling any more sure of what exactly was happening.

"Happy Bonding." Mycroft said smugly. "That little cottage will be an excellent addition to Sherlock's property portfolio."

"You bought us the cottage?" John asked.

"Of course." Mycroft said. "Now let's get these forms signed. We've all got things to do, especially Sherlock who looks like he needs to sleep for a week."

"What?" Sherlock said opening his eyes suddenly and jerking from leaning against the doorway. He moved as quickly as his stiff muscles would allow to stand with John in front of Mycroft.

"This has been a long time in coming, Sherlock." Mycroft said with the first honest smile John had ever seen. "Do you, Sherlock Holmes, take John Watson as your bondmate to care for him and cherish him as long as you both shall live?"

"Of course." Sherlock said slipping a white gold band onto John's finger with a giddy grin.

"And you, John Watson, do you agree to bond your whole life long with Sherlock Holmes despite his mess and his attitude and his terrible taste in curry?" Mycroft asked.

"No paraphrasing, Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted.

"I do." John said firmly, sliding a matching ring onto Sherlock's finger. "And I love your taste in curry."

"Congratulations, boys!" Mrs. Hudson almost shrieked in joy.

"Let's sign the forms then. Mrs. Hudson and I will be the witnesses." Mycroft said handing out pens.

Within five minutes both the property forms and the ceremony certificate were signed in triplicate and the flat was once more home to just John and Sherlock.

"Tea?" John asked. "And then I'll get to work on cleaning up the decorations."

"Tea would be lovely but leave the decorations." Sherlock said suddenly as he lowered himself gingerly to the couch. "At least for a bit. This is a celebration after all."

"Sentiment?" John asked with a grin. He finished up the tea and brought the mugs over. Sherlock didn't even touch his cup before scooting over to rest his head in John's lap so that his Omega could tangle his fingers in the dark curls.

Mrs. Hudson made her way up the stairs a few hours later. She knocked lightly a few times but decided to enter despite not hearing a confirmation. She stopped to gaze at her boys, both asleep on the couch, curled up together. She began quietly gathering up the barely empty tea cups and some of the mess. She may not be their housekeeper, but it had taken so long for those two to finally come to their senses that she thought they deserved a bit of a rest. After all, finding your place in the world can be such an exhaustive journey.

**00000000000000**

**As always, you guys are the best!  
**

**Thanks for reading!  
**

**~Couchbarnacle.  
**


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